Demon Shadows
by InfinityStar
Summary: On loan with the FBI in Washington, Goren finds himself in deep trouble. His boss hires the Lightman Group to evaluate his situation and help him, if possible. BA in an established, evolving relationship. Xover with Lie to Me.
1. A Change in Plans

**Prologue**_: Working on a new profiling system, the FBI tagged Goren to help with the development and implementation of that system. The NYPD brass had shown token resistance to lending him out until the Bureau offered them the chance to be the first police department in the country to have the system available to them. With Goren as one of the key developers, they would be many strides ahead of any other department once the system came online for widespread use. So he was on loan to the Bureau, indefinitely, and the FBI was calling the shots._

Bobby Goren usually looked forward to Friday afternoons, but the past couple of Fridays had been different. He had just completed his seventh week in Washington, and he was restless, anxious to get the job over with and go home, back to his job, to his life and to Eames. The first three weeks hadn't been bad. The workweek was busy and he had been able to go home on the weekends. However, over the course of the last month, he had not gotten a break. Tied up with work and meetings everyday, including the weekends, he had been unable to visit New York. It had been a very long month, and he was lonely.

He missed the city. He missed Mike Logan, who seemed to be a different man since retiring from the department. Redefining himself, Logan found a new calling mentoring troubled, inner city kids. Goren liked the changes he saw in his friend. Logan was more relaxed, less angry, and Goren liked the kids he mentored.

He missed the job, the thrill of the chase, the heady rush of closing in on his prey, the mixed emotions that came with obtaining a confession.

But more than any of it, more than all of it combined, he missed _her_. His partner, his friend, his lover...

The last one was new, a fantasy he'd never imagined would become reality. He wasn't really even sure how it came about. One day they were partners, and then...his brother died, and he was framed for his murder. Nicole Wallace died, and it sure looked like he was settling old scores. And then Gage, the man he'd once considered a father, handed him the ultimate betrayal. _Bobby, you're free..._ How was he supposed to handle that?

Through it all, Eames had been there, silently supportive, but he had been too lost in his own distress to notice. After Gage's arrest, he left 1PP alone. Deep in despair and grief, he'd floundered, and she found him. She took him home, stayed with him as he sobered, didn't let him chase her away. That night, she changed his life. It began innocently. He had certainly never intended to end up in bed with her. In fact, sleeping with her had been the furthest thing from his mind. Still reeling from Gage's betrayal, he'd withdrawn, lashing out angrily when she pressed him to talk to her. Never one to tolerate that from him, she had snapped back at him and an argument was born.

Normally, his tendency was to give in to her, but his grief, his anger and the alcohol in his system had him fired up. She refused to be intimidated by him and faced off against him without fear. He yelled and she yelled back. The air between them was charged with emotion, and something happened that he was still unable to explain. One minute he was yelling at her, furious, and then...he was kissing her with just as much passion. All of his emotions, positive and negative, were transformed, feeding that passion. He didn't know about her, but for him, that kiss changed everything.

Before he knew what was happening, her nimble fingers were unbuttoning his shirt and his pants, and they were making their way down the hall to his bedroom, unable to keep their hands off one another. Clothes littered the floor and they fell onto the bed, a frantic tangle of desperation and need.

Several factors played into what happened that night and in the days that followed. Had they not been in his apartment, it was unlikely they would have ended up in bed. He would have ended the argument by leaving. But he was not going to leave his home, so instead, he attempted to drive her away. Eames, however, refused to be driven away, and the fire in her was somehow diverted into passion for him.

Another factor that landed them in his bed was the alcohol in his system. Had he been completely sober, it never would have happened. But everything converged to fuel an explosive passion neither of them could deny.

The following morning, he woke, alone in the bed, with a throbbing head full of confusion and remorse, until he found her in the kitchen, reading the paper with her breakfast. "What happened last night?" he wondered as he sat across from her.

"We slept together," she answered without looking up, her tone completely matter-of-fact.

"I know that," he answered, mildly annoyed. "But what does it mean?"

Slowly, she lowered the paper and looked at him. "What do you want it to mean?"

He stared at her as though she were speaking Martian. "I don't understand," he finally said.

With a saint's patience, she answered, "Either it meant something or it didn't. You decide."

"Why are you putting that on me?"

"Because you are the one who runs away from commitment."

"I...what?"

"You heard me. Look, Bobby, if it was something significant for you, then you have to tell me. I am not the profiler. I can't read you."

"Significant..." he mused, closing his eyes as he rubbed his temples. After a few minutes, he opened them slowly and looked at her. "I...I can't...I mean...I don't know how to describe what it was."

"It was sex," she said, and he wasn't sure she was trying to be helpful.

"It was...more than that. It was..." He paused, searching for words he could not find. "You saved me," he finished lamely.

"I don't think I would go that far," she countered.

"You wanted to know what it meant for me," he snapped, his petulant tone turning suddenly angry. "Look, Eames, if you want out, then go. It doesn't have to mean a damn thing if you don't want it to."

For the second time in as many days, something happened that he could not explain. He rose from the chair and walked toward the doorway. Just before he got there, he heard her chair scrape the floor. She grabbed his arm and yanked hard. She was not strong enough to move him, but he turned to face her when she jerked his arm. She glared at him and growled, "I don't know what it is, either, but it's there, and it's real, and I want it. If you don't, then walk away now."

With those few words, she had opened the door for him to withdraw while making it clear that she would not give him another chance. He'd already had more chances than he deserved from her. Whatever he decided, he would have to live with it for good. For a man who had a real tendency to overthink things, he put no thought into his response. For once, he let his emotions have full reign and he responded by kissing her. They ended up back in the bed, and his head quit hurting.

The memory of that first night together, and many others during the six months that followed, went a long way toward sustaining him emotionally during his time away. Their relationship was extremely passionate and they argued frequently, but neither of them ever walked away until it was finished. Few of the arguments were serious ones involving real anger. More accurately, they were heated discussions, and he was always the one to give in. She loved to be right, to win in a dispute with him, and he didn't mind letting her have that. She was incredibly beautiful when she was fired up, and he never minded letting her win, regardless of who he thought was actually right. He quickly learned that right and wrong did not matter in their disputes, and each one fascinated him as much as she did. Their make-ups were as fire-driven as their arguments, and that made it worth giving in for him, even when he was right.

He missed her terribly. His life in Washington was a lonely one. A couple of his female co-workers made it abundantly clear they would love to spend some quality time with him, but he let them down gently. He belonged to another—heart, body, and soul. He had a strict code of ethics, born of his uncertain and volatile upbringing and honed by a lifetime in law enforcement, and it guided every aspect of his life, including his interpersonal relationships. He remembered the nights his father came home, reeking of gin and perfume and sex, and the pain in his mother that fueled her violent response to his infidelity. He remembered the fights, his father's rage, his mother's tears. Eames had accused him of running away from commitment, and that was true. He never wanted to cause a woman that kind of pain, and he avoided it by minimizing his involvement in relationships. That was part of the reason they never worked out. Each breakup played like a broken record. The sex was great, but it was never enough to sustain a long-term relationship. She always wanted more, which was something he was unwilling to give.

At the very start of their intimacy, Eames was strides ahead of any other relationship he had ever had. She began the relationship in his bed, a place other women never saw. She stayed the night nestled in his arms, another rarity. Usually, after sex at her place, whoever _she_ happened to be, he went home once she was asleep. Most women weren't willing to put up with that indefinitely, no matter how good the sex was. When he did stay the night, he left early, usually before she had to get up, which eventually became a sore spot as well. He simply never quite figured out how to balance his needs with hers.

With other women, despite his considerate nature, his take on the relationship had largely been about what he could get from her while it lasted. Usually, that was nothing more than physical satisfaction through sex. With Eames, he focused more on what he could give to her, and in the giving, he received more than he ever would have imagined. With her, amazingly, he found love, though he hadn't yet identified it as such.

Entering his apartment, he pulled off his jacket and his tie and headed for the bedroom. Stripping to his boxers, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He was inordinately excited about seeing her and couldn't keep his mind off her. Showering quickly, he pulled on a clean pair of boxers and looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. When he first got to Washington, out of boredom, he began working out in the gym on the third floor of the federal building. Gradually, he began watching his diet as well. Over the past month, he had put more effort into his workouts, to distract him from his lonely boredom, and his efforts were paying off. Gone were the extra pounds around his middle that began to show up after his mother's cancer diagnosis. In their place was a trimmer waistline and developing muscle tone. He was starting to feel good about himself again, and women were noticing him again. His life in general was better than it had been in years.

He returned to the bedroom as the phone rang. Apprehensively, he picked up the bedroom extension, half expecting his boss to be on the other end. "Goren."

"Hi. It's me."

He smiled as his heart fluttered at the sound of her voice. "Hi, me. How are you?"

"I'm good, but I have some bad news. Something came up and I can't see you this weekend."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"I told you, something came up. You may as well just stay in Washington. Get more of your work out of the way so you can come home next weekend."

"Alex..."

"I've gotta go."

"But, Alex...I..."

"Next weekend, Bobby. I'll see you then. Bye."

Deeply disappointed, he hung up the phone. She was lying to him. He heard it in her voice. Nothing had come up. He couldn't help but feel that she was punishing him for the last few weeks, getting back at him for disappointing her. Few things were more vicious than the grudges she held. He tried not to be angry, but he wasn't succeeding very well. His anger turned vindictive. If she wanted to play those games, fine. He could play them as well. He finished dressing and went out. There were certainly ways to soothe the hurt he felt. He planned to find one.

* * *

><p>She was very pretty, about as different from Eames as a woman could get. She was leggy, almost eight inches taller than Eames, with long dark hair, deeply tanned skin and dark eyes that looked right into a man's soul. He bought her a couple of drinks and flirted with her for half the night. It was all quite innocent, at least on his part, because he found that, despite his hurt feelings, Eames was never far from his thoughts.<p>

Then, she kissed him, and, to his horror, he found himself desperate for more. When she invited him to take the party to her place, he slid into a state of near panic. Flirting came naturally to him, part of the legacy left to him by both his father and the man who raised him, but tonight, it was simply an innocent way to blow off steam. Her proposition was a natural progression from the flirting, and he would have taken her up on it in a heartbeat were it not for Eames. Hurt or not, he just did not have it in him to be unfaithful to her. It was in that moment that realization penetrated his half-sodden brain and he could place a name to the complex emotions that fired his soul: he was in love with Eames. With a sincere apology, he gently refused her offer.

He paid for their drinks, offered another apology and left the bar. He walked around for awhile, sobering as he pondered what had become for him a dilemma. If Eames had let him finish his sentence, he was going to tell her, truthfully, that he needed her, because he did, and that now made him angry, that he felt that way. But it was the truth, and he slid from anger into depression, vacillating from driving up to New York anyway to remaining in Washington out of spite and then simply because he was giving up. He honestly had no real idea of what he felt or what he wanted to do. He was lost in his thoughts until his phone rang. "Goren."

"Hey, buddy. What's up?"

He smiled briefly at Logan's voice. "Not a damn thing."

"I thought you were coming home for the weekend."

"So did I, but something came up."

"Really? You gotta work again?"

"Eames was the one who cancelled, not me. She told me to stay here, that something came up and she couldn't see me."

"And you bought that? You think that if you turned up on her doorstep she'd turn you away?"

"She's the one who calls the shots, Mike," he said bitterly. "I...I'm just going to stay here in Washington."

"Moping around feeling sorry for yourself all weekend? Like hell you are. I'll come down tonight, and you and I can make a weekend of it."

"It's not the same."

"Maybe not, but we'll still have fun."

Goren offered a sigh of resignation, but he smiled again. "Okay, fine, but I don't know about the fun part."

"You leave that to me." He paused, reading something in Goren's tone that bothered him. "Are you okay?"

Goren hesitated for a moment. Never one to confide in another person, he found that particular trait a thing of the past as his friendship with Logan deepened. "I think I'm in trouble, Mike," he confessed.

Concern filled Logan's voice. "Why? What happened?"

"I..." He had no idea how to put his problem into words because speaking it aloud would somehow make it more real. He wasn't sure he was ready for that. As long as it existed only in his head, he could keep it under control. Yet, somewhere beyond the haze of alcohol, lurked the thought that maybe it wouldn't be such a horrible thing, making it real. "I...I think...Mike, I think I'm in love."

Logan wasn't sure how to answer that. "Do I know her?" he finally asked.

"You're hilarious."

"Are you telling me you're in love with Eames?"

"Do you have any idea how complicated that makes my life?"

"You're right. You are in trouble."

"What do I do?"

"Don't do a damn thing until I get there. We'll figure it out."

Somehow, he felt better. "Okay. I'll head home."

Another moment of silence. "Where are you?"

"I have no clue."

"You're kidding me. Bobby, your tendency to wander is troubling enough here at home. You can find real trouble down there. You don't know Washington the way you know New York."

"I'll find my way home."

"Be careful, will you?"

"I'll be fine. Do you still have the key I gave you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then I'll see you later."

Goren ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Still lonely and miserable, he found his way back to his apartment, knocked back a few more beers and fell asleep watching the news.

* * *

><p>Logan looked at his phone for a minute after Goren hung up, feeling bad for his friend's depression and troubled by his revelation. <em>Damn<em>, he thought. He made another call. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he said when she answered.

"That's not the way to start a conversation with me, Logan," she snapped.

"'Something came up?' That's what you went with?"

"It was the closest thing to the truth I had. Something _did_ come up."

"You would have been better off lying to him, Alex. He doesn't expect that from you. But 'something came up?' That's a classic blow off line."

"I could have told him I was spending the weekend with you. That wouldn't have been a lie, either."

"If you'd given him a believable lie, he wouldn't have gotten so upset."

She felt bad for upsetting him. "How upset is he?"

"Upset enough to go on one of his wandering walkabouts."

"In Washington?"

"No, in Atlanta. Of course, in Washington."

"What did you tell him?"

Goren's careful speech and occasional slurred word told Logan he'd had more than just a couple of drinks, and he decided against telling her what he'd said. Maybe it had simply been the alcohol talking. "Just that he and I would make a weekend of it. He said it wasn't the same."

"Damn. Maybe I should call him back."

"You were the one who wanted to surprise him in the first place."

"But I didn't want to upset him."

"And yet, you chose 'Something came up.'"

"Bite me, Logan."

He chuckled. "Just pack your bag and I'll be by to get you in about an hour. He'll be okay until we get there."

"Fine. I'll be ready."

Closing her phone, she sat on the edge of her bed and turned it over in her hands. Truthfully, she had planned to use some kind of fabrication but each lie she came up with would either need an elaborate back story to satisfy his curiosity or allay his concern, or it wasn't a good enough excuse to keep him in Washington. Of course, being vague had no guarantees of keeping him in place, and she knew he'd been disappointed, but that was temporary. Excited about surprising him, she had forgotten how sensitive he could be, especially with her.

Then again, it was his own fault. He was the stubborn one this time. She had offered to drive down to see him last weekend, but he didn't want her to be the one subjected to the travel between the cities. He blamed himself for their enforced separation. His damned chivalry annoyed her enough to keep her in New York for the past month, but not seeing him was getting old. Okay, so he'd been right about being busy for the past three weekends, but she was still lonely, and she missed him. It would have been enough for her just to cuddle in bed with him at night. Not even spending the weekends with her nephew had eased her loneliness. She wanted a real change, to spend time with him in a different venue. She _wanted_ to drive down to the Capitol, but he was adamant about coming home. So she had to trip him up a little.

She was troubled that her excuse upset him, but hopefully, he would be in a forgiving mood when she and Logan turned up at his door. At first, she had planned to make the drive alone, but then she talked to Logan and found out that he was also planning to drive down to see Goren. She knew that he and Goren sometimes went out for a few beers, but she hadn't realized they'd grown so close, and Logan missed him, too. Glad for the company on the drive, she finished packing and waited for Logan to pick her up.


	2. Surprises

As they drove through south Jersey, Logan watched what he could see of the passing scenery and tapped his fingers against his knee in time with the song on the radio. When Eames didn't stop him after a couple of songs, he noticed that he wasn't annoying her, something he did on a regular basis, to his endless amusement. Playfully, he poked her shoulder. Nothing. He poked her again. Still nothing. Another poke, then: "Poke me again, Logan, and I'll remove that finger."

He laughed. "That's better. Penny for your thoughts?"

"What makes you think they're worth just a penny?"

"How about two pennies?"

She smiled. "Not even close."

"Come on, Eames. I'm bored."

"You're starting to sound like Goren."

With another laugh, he said, "Can you imagine going on a road trip with both of us?"

She smiled. "I can, and that's why it will never happen."

"Why not?"

"I like you both too much to risk doing something that one or both of you would not survive."

"I appreciate that," he replied with a smile. "So...what's on your mind?"

"Want to take a guess?"

"I don't think I need to guess."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because the silence was getting too loud."

"What? The radio isn't enough for you?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Come on, Alex. Talk to me."

She didn't reply for a mile or two. Finally, in a soft voice, as though she were afraid of being overheard, she said, "I miss him, Mike."

"Does that surprise you?"

"Yes, it does. I've been alone for so long I thought it would take time to adjust to being with someone again, but it didn't."

"You don't think six months is a long time?"

"Not when compared to the nine years Joe's been gone. Not even close. But, you know, it didn't take long at all for me to adjust to sharing my bed again."

"Don't tell me you didn't sleep with anyone for nine years."

"Don't be an idiot. Of course I did. But this thing with Goren...it's more than just sex. It's more than anything I've had since I lost Joe. A lot more."

He appreciated her candor. He knew that she wasn't the type to open up to someone else easily. He seriously doubted she opened up to anyone, except maybe Goren. He was quiet for a moment before he said, "He loves you, too."

She reacted, and the car swerved onto the shoulder. Surprised, Logan grabbed the armrest on the door. She quickly regained control, of herself and the car.

"Was it something I said?" he asked.

"I said it was more than sex. I didn't say anything about love."

"Are you saying you don't love him?"

"No...but what on earth makes you think he loves me? Did he tell you that?"

He'd probably said too much, but he had a feeling if he didn't, neither would either of them and they would get stuck playing emotional roulette until it was too late. He didn't want to see them destroy a good thing with her stubborn pride, or with whatever it was that drove Goren. He hadn't figured that one out yet. "Did he come right out and say, 'I love her'? Of course not. That's not the way he works. You have to learn to read between the lines with him, and when I look between the lines, I see love written as plain as day." He didn't have to tell her he had a little help with the interpretation. "Why do you think he got so upset when you canceled on him? It's not because he's not going to get laid this weekend. If that was all he was after, he could walk into any bar in the city and find a babe to take to bed. He got upset because he thinks he's not going to see you."

Skeptical, she said, "So why isn't he on his way to New York? Because I told him to stay in Washington?"

"Partly. In his mind, you're the one pulling the strings. But he was hurt, too, and when he gets hurt, he's like a wounded bear. He goes off by himself to lick his wounds."

"Isn't a wounded animal dangerous?"

"This one is only dangerous to himself. Alex, you know all this. You don't need me to translate."

"I still think you're wrong. I don't think Goren is capable of inserting himself into a meaningful relationship. Life has made that impossible for him."

Logan shook his head at her stubbornness. "Life's made it _difficult_ for him to put himself out there into a relationship that could hurt him," he replied. "Not impossible. Just because it's not something he has ever done before doesn't mean he's incapable of doing it at all. Why are you fighting me on this? Don't you want him to love you?"

"It's a whole lot easier if he doesn't love me," she confessed.

"And since when does he do anything that's easy?"

"Damn it, Mike. I'm not looking for complications in my life."

"So you got in bed with Goren? Honey, he's a walking complication. Look, if you want my advice, which you probably don't, I say examine your heart. If you truly don't have it in you to love him, get out now, before you really hurt him."

"And if you want my advice," she snapped back. "Don't call me 'honey' again or you won't be loving anyone for awhile."

He couldn't help smiling, but he was concerned that Goren was much deeper into this relationship than Eames was allowing herself to be. He hoped she would make the right decision, or he was going to have a hell of a job picking up the pieces.

* * *

><p>Eames was shaken by her conversation with Logan. Stepping into a relationship with Goren had seemed a safe bet with her. She never expected him to become entangled with his own emotions. Was it possible he loved her? Was he even capable of that after all he'd been through? Just how well did Logan know him?<p>

If he was right about how Goren felt, then he was absolutely right that she had to make a decision about what to do. Was she willing to invest herself in another relationship like the one she'd had with Joe? Could she love another cop? Should she? Was it worth the risk of having her life shattered if the next gun-toting perp he stepped in front of actually pulled the trigger?

_Oh, my God_, she thought as the answer emerged in her mind. _It's too damn late._

She never looked too far into the reasons she missed him. Ever since he went to Washington, each time he left to go back after coming home, his absence underscored the emptiness of her bed. But it was more than that. Her spare room was filled with his things. The furniture from his apartment was in her basement. Everything around her, at home and at work, reminded her of him.

When the FBI tagged him for this job, an indefinite transfer to the nation's capitol, he had reluctantly give up his place and had been planning to put his things in storage, a decision he'd agonized over until she offered to let him store his things at her place. Initially, the offer was made simply to ease his transition into the new job. After all, it was temporary. She also knew it would ease a big financial burden for him if he didn't have to pay rent for awhile; the FBI was footing the bill for his place in the Capitol. But it soon became more than just about helping him. It became a way to stay close, to have him closer than the miles that separated them. Had she made a mistake?

* * *

><p>As they got closer to Washington, she asked Logan to get Goren's address out of the glove box and program it into the GPS. "That's not necessary," he said. "I know where his place is."<p>

"How do you know that?"

"I came down to see him last week."

She frowned. "He invited you down?"

"No. I invited myself. When I called him to let him know I was coming for a visit, I was already in town."

She began to get angry. "I thought he was tied up all weekend."

"He was. I spent most of the weekend on Capitol Hill and the Mall. We went to dinner after he got off in the evening, had a few beers and watched a couple of movies. Then I drove back Sunday night."

"What was the point?"

"I was trying to convince him that a little time together is better than none at all. Since you are bound and determined to get his permission to come down here, I hoped he'd make it easier this weekend. I didn't expect you to take matters into your own hands like you did."

"Why didn't you tell me last weekend that you were coming down?"

"I tried to call you, but you didn't answer."

She thought back to the previous Friday..._oh, yeah_... "I may have turned off my phone," she admitted, remembering how angry and disappointed she was. She hadn't talked to Goren until Tuesday.

"That explains his mood," he said. "He wouldn't tell me what was wrong."

In his opinion, communication was one of their biggest problems, but he saw Goren reaching out and trying. Eames was the one being difficult, and that worried him. He hoped she was going to come around, and sooner would be better than later.

He wanted to intercede for Goren, but he didn't know what to say, or even if he should say anything. Ultimately, he decided to see what happened. Maybe he could win her over. He sure hoped so, for Goren's sake—and his own. He really didn't want to deal with the fallout if she stepped away before Goren was ready to let her go.

* * *

><p>Goren lived in a quiet neighborhood, in a cozy one bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of his building. Logan knew that Eames was upset because he'd visited recently and she felt shut out, but that wasn't the case at all. Logan was caught off guard by the intensity with which Goren missed her, though he shouldn't have been. He wanted to tell her, to let her just how miserable her partner was without her, but every time he started to speak, she glared at him and froze him out, so he stopped trying to talk. He didn't know what she was looking for, but he was not going to apologize for being Goren's friend.<p>

When they got to Goren's door, she knocked and they waited. No answer. She listened at the door. "The TV is on," she said.

She tried the door, but it was locked. _At least he has enough sense to lock the damn door,_ Logan mused. He was always getting on his friend's case for not locking the door of his Brooklyn apartment. In fact, the relationship between Goren and Eames was outed to him because Goren didn't lock his door. One Saturday afternoon, Goren was supposed to go with him to play basketball with some of the kids he mentored. He stopped by to pick him up, walking into the apartment after a cursory knock. To his surprise, he found the partners making out on the couch. His reaction was entirely honest. Eames looked horrified; Goren was amused. He simply said, "It's about damn time," and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Nothing more was said, and they never had to bother hiding anything from him after that.

He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, receiving another look from Eames as he pushed it open. He motioned her in ahead of him. She shook a finger at him. "If I get shot because he's not expecting company, I'll haunt you till you die."

"Relax. He knows I'm coming."

They walked into the living room and Eames stopped. Goren was laying on his side on the couch, sound asleep. The coffee table was clear, except for three empty beer bottles, the TV remote and a couple of magazines.

Eames stood where she was, watching him. One arm rested across his abdomen, the other was tucked under his head. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and his face was relaxed. At least he wasn't suffering another nightmare, she was relieved to see. Her gaze strayed over his body, and she was impressed. He'd been doing something right. He was trimmer and more muscular than even a month ago. Aside from working out, she hoped he was eating better as well. A steady diet of pastrami, take-out and beer had done him no good during his mother's final months.

She finally moved further into the room, walking to the couch where she knelt beside him. Tenderly, she stroked his face, ignoring the clink of the beer bottles as Logan cleared them. He made a soft noise and shifted his hips, but he didn't waken. She ran her fingers through his hair and softly kissed his mouth. He made another soft noise and brought his hand up to cradle her head, finally waking.

His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes as she sat back, watching his face. He blinked a couple of times, not sure he was seeing right. "Eames?" he murmured, still not believing she was there.

Glancing around the room, he saw Logan standing in the kitchen doorway. "Surprise," Logan said with a grin.

Goren looked back at Eames. "What happened to your plans?" he asked, too sleepy to sound anything more than curious.

"Nothing happened to them. I wanted to surprise you, but that's so damn hard to do, so I lied a little. Like Logan said...surprise."

He started to get angry, recalling what he'd almost done to soothe his hurt at what he thought was her rejection, but then she grinned at him, a smile that asked forgiveness as much as it conveyed the innocence in her intentions. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching as he stifled a yawn. She sat beside him as he brought his arm down, curling it around her. In the same smooth motion, he leaned in, claiming her mouth in a kiss that took her breath away.

She slid her hands over his chest and began to unbutton his shirt as he pushed her back onto the couch. His fingers teased the hem of her shirt as he slowly worked it up toward her ribs. She made a noise into his mouth when his hand found her breast, wanting, demanding more.

Logan cleared his throat loudly. When they ignored him, he said, "Unless you want to make this a threesome, kids, take it to the bedroom."

He knew that would get a rise out of Eames, and he smiled as he watched her struggle to get her partner under control long enough to make it down the hall. When the door slammed, he laughed. He felt greatly relieved by the scene he'd just witnessed. Putting a name to the emotions was a great deal more difficult than feeling and responding to what was between them. He felt certain they would work it out. He'd seen Eames' annoyance before they entered the apartment, and he saw anger flash briefly in Goren's eyes moments before she began to undress him, but all those negative feelings were washed away by the passion they shared.

He retrieved a pillow and blanket from a cabinet in the corner and made himself comfortable on the couch. The sun would be up soon, but Goren and Eames wouldn't be, and neither would he.


	3. Sensitivity Squared

**A/N: I'm just a little confused by the season of Frances Goren's birthday. In Brother's Keeper, "Sunday" was her birthday and Frank was on the freezing street outside Calvin Riggins' church. Then, a year later, in Frame, Bobby places flowers on his mother's grave, saying "Happy birthday, Ma," and it seems to be spring. So was it just a really cold spring in 2006 or a really warm winter in 2007? I'm going with March, since that is the only month that covers both winter and spring and it's the most likely month to have both the cold of winter and the warm breath of spring in New York. Make sense? That will place the timing of this story in September/October.**

* * *

><p>Logan woke to the smell of cooking bacon and the sound of soft voices. As he got up and folded his blanket, he heard Goren's soft voice, followed by Eames' quiet laughter. He didn't hear that very often. She had a nice laugh, and he felt reassured that she could laugh for Goren. He was still worried about them, especially after the discussion he'd had with Eames in the car. She responded to Goren's passion-hell, <em>he <em>might respond to Goren's passion if it were directed toward him, but he had real concerns about what was in her heart.

He walked to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway to watch them. She stood at the stove, cooking the bacon. He was directly behind her, his arms wrapped loosely around her. Lowering his head, he spoke quietly into her ear. With a smile, she tipped her head back to reply, and he stole a kiss. Her fingers brushed his cheek, then his ear before they slipped into his hair as she turned in his arms, surrendering to his full embrace.

Logan almost felt like he was intruding, but like the night before, they didn't pay any attention to him until he cleared his throat. She broke the kiss and stepped from his arms, casting an annoyed glare at Logan before returning to the bacon. "What?" Logan said at her glare. "You should have taken care of that before you started cooking the bacon. Besides, that's what bedrooms are for when you aren't alone in the house." He looked back and forth between them. "So, I guess this means you worked everything out?"

Goren's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when we arrived last night, you were upset because you thought she was blowing you off as punishment for being stuck here working for the past month, and she was pissed as hell that I came down to see you last weekend without her. I don't think she likes the idea that I knew where you lived and had a key and she didn't."

Goren looked at her. "Is that true?"

"Get the eggs," she said evasively, shooting another glare at Logan.

He got the feeling it was going to be a long walk back to New York. If Goren recognized her evasion, which Logan was certain he did, he didn't challenge her. He walked to the refrigerator, and Logan knew he was formulating his response. Goren tried not to be spontaneous; it got him into trouble.

Goren set the eggs on the counter and retrieved a bowl. As he cracked the eggs into the bowl, he said, "I didn't feel bad about not being around when Mike was here, but I didn't want you driving all this way and then not being able to see me. Not when you could spend that time with someone...uh, with your family, your nephew."

She turned to look at him. "You were going to say 'with someone more important,' weren't you?"

"I'm working on it," he protested defensively, recalling how much she hated it when he didn't give himself the credit he deserved.

After a moment, she said, "I appreciate your consideration, but I would prefer for you to let me have a say in those decisions. You are not allowed to make one-sided decisions that affect both of us."

He tossed the egg shells into the trash and began scrambling the eggs. Logan saw the tension in him as he struggled not to snap at her. He was trying very hard to make his relationship with her work. Logan saw that effort, and he wondered if Eames saw it, too. He seriously doubted that Goren had ever put so much effort into any relationship. Eames was important to him and he was trying to make her happy as well as make up for past insensitivities. That was why he let Eames call the shots, and she seemed to like it that way. It was hard for him, and it took almost constant vigilance on his part not to screw it up. Logan hoped he would eventually become comfortable and secure enough in the relationship to relax, but that was not going to happen while he was in Washington.

Eames took the bowl of eggs from Goren and looked up at him. "I would have been fine just being with you all night," she said. "You were working. It's not like you would have left me by myself to go off with Logan or someone else."

Logan recognized her change in tone when she spoke those last two words, and he knew Goren didn't miss it, either. He saw the slight change in his friend's posture as his back stiffened. He saw the flash of fire in Goren's eyes. And he felt a tremendous amount of respect for Goren's self-control as he left the room rather than issue a reply that was sure to disintegrate into an argument.

Eames was surprised by Goren's departure, and she quickly finished the eggs, then set the pan on a back burner and started after him. Logan stepped in her way. "Let him go," he advised.

"Get out of my way, Logan."

"I'm not kidding, Eames. Give him a couple of minutes."

"For what?"

"To calm down."

She scowled at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Alex, you just all but accused him of screwing around on you. Either you trust him or you don't, but quit playing games with him."

"When the hell did you become Mr. Sensitivity?"

"When I became his friend and I realized he needed me to be sensitive to him. What about you?" He lowered his voice. "I can't tell if you love him or not, but you'd better make up your mind before he gets in any deeper. You have the potential to save him or destroy him. The longer you play around with him, the worse it's going to be."

She studied his face, ready to rip into him and tell him to mind his own business. Then she paused. Goren needed an advocate, which was a role she had once filled until her anger made her step away from him. Now Logan was filling that role. Goren had never had anyone to step up for him and take it on the chin until she and Logan came into his life. Now Logan was risking her considerable wrath to stand up for his friend, and Eames knew in that moment just the caliber of friend her partner had in Logan. "Do you think I'm insincere?" she accused.

"Sometimes I wonder. Just listen. He deserves to love a woman who loves him back. If you can't be that woman, then you have to cut him loose. By stringing him along, you're just playing with fire, and burns hurt like hell. You told me it was more than sex between you, and I agree." He dropped his voice even lower, to a guarded whisper. "He loves you. I know that for a fact. You could never have gotten him so upset last night if he didn't. Women come and go, Alex. If one blows him off, he just moves on to another. It's no big deal. But you...to him you're a big deal. So decide, and decide quickly, if he means the same to you."

He stepped out of her way, snatching a piece of bacon from its plate on the stove. Eames moved into the living room, where Goren stood by the window. Despite the chill in the air, he had the window open a few inches, letting in the sounds of the street. He did not react when she approached him, but when she touched his back, his muscles tensed under her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," she said quietly. "I haven't been fair to you."

He shrugged. "It's not a big deal," he answered.

"I think it is. You're used to being treated unfairly, so maybe it's not to you, but I like to think I'm better than that, that I know how to treat someone I care about. You do know that I care about you, right?"

He nodded. "I know that." He paused, then added, "But maybe it's not enough. If you want to go back home, I'm okay with that."

She wasn't sure where he was going with that. "Don't you want me to stay?"

"I want very much for you to stay, but not if you really don't want to. I want you to do what you want, Eames. If you want to stay, even if it's just for the sex, then stay. If not, I'll have Logan go back with you."

"What will you do if I leave?"

He closed his eyes. He had been hoping for a different response, although he expected the one she gave. "If you leave, then you have no right to ask that."

She realized then that he had convinced himself that she didn't love him, that she was in the relationship for the sex. It was up to her to convince him that he was wrong. "Stay here," she said.

Where else did he have to go?

Back in the kitchen, she made a phone call. Logan watched her with interest as she talked to Danny Ross. When she finished the call, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Making a point. You can go back to New York whenever you need to go. I don't have to be back until Wednesday."

"My schedule's wide open. Just let me know if you want me to make myself scarce."

"Don't worry. I will."

She returned to the living room. He hadn't moved. She walked over to him, but didn't touch him this time. "Look at me," she said.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. His expression was guarded and she could not read his emotions. "I want you to tell me, honestly, if you want me to go home."

"I already told you, you're more than welcome to stay if you want to stay. And I told you that I want you to stay. But I'm not going to force you."

"So you won't fight for me?"

"No, Eames. I will always fight for you. But I don't want to fight with you. I'm just not up to an argument right now."

Over the past month, he'd felt a dark depression creeping up on him. Lonely and miserable without her, he'd hoped she could dispel it when he saw her, but when she'd blown him off, his dark thoughts only became darker. He had a bad feeling that he was in a one-sided relationship, that she did not feel the way he did. In preparing for what he thought was inevitable, he just made things worse for himself. She seemed undecided, so he made up his mind to help her along. "Go on, Eames. Go home."

"Don't make me climb up there and smack you," she retorted.

Her comment took him by surprise and he looked at her. "What?" he asked, not sure he'd heard her right.

"You heard me. What did I tell you about making decisions for me?"

He became angry. "I don't know what the hell you want, and you won't give me any goddam clues! What am I supposed to do?"

"Do you think it's any easier to read your mind?" she shouted back at him.

"Then don't read my mind! Interpret my actions! Listen to my words!"

"I would if you gave me any words to listen to!"

He turned to face her, shifting his position to intentionally crowd her. He stopped shouting, but his tone made his words just as deafening. "Then listen to these words and do with them what you will: I love you. I tried like hell not to fall in love, but I did. So suffer me the fool."

He moved past her, down the hall and he slammed his bedroom door. Logan stepped out of the kitchen, eating a bagel sandwich of eggs and bacon. "Let me make a suggestion. Maybe you should listen to me a little more often."

"Shut up, Logan."

He pointed down the hall. "You gonna let him get away with that?"

"I said, shut up, Logan."

But she finally moved, following Goren's path down the hall. Normally, she would respect his privacy, but she was too angry. She opened the door and shoved it into the wall, storming into the room. "Don't walk away from me," she demanded.

"I told you I didn't want to fight."

"Well, that's what we do, it seems."

He was quiet and he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Why?" he whispered. "Why do we always have to fight?"

"Because we're both equally stubborn, and passionate, and...and...and I don't know what else, but it all contributes to this and it doesn't have to be this way."

"You want me to stop talking?"

"No. Never. And we don't necessarily have to stop arguing. Bobby, you've spent your life giving in. I don't want you to have to give in, just to make me happy. You have feelings and opinions, too. I don't usually agree with them, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear them. When I disagree, that doesn't mean I want you to shut up or to change your mind."

He rubbed his hand over his hair. "So...what are you going to do?"

She moved closer, stopping directly in front of him, with one of his knees on either side of her. She ran her fingers along the sides of his legs. "I'm going to stay, if you still want me to stay. I just talked to Ross, and I'm yours until Wednesday."

"Only until Wednesday?" he asked, placing his hands lightly on her waist.

"Do you think you'll still want me after Wednesday?"

"I've wanted you for years. Why would I stop now?"

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she lightly stroked the sides of his neck. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her waist. When she leaned in to kiss him, he groaned and pulled her onto the bed with him.

Before she let him get carried away, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. Stretching out on top of him, she nibbled his earlobe before she whispered into his ear. "I love you, too."

Then she surrendered to him and let him have his way.


	4. Love Me or Leave Me

**A/N: I promise, we will soon be getting to the meat of the story-and the Lightman Group!**

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><p>Goren lay in the dark, one arm beneath his head, the other wrapped around the sleeping woman beside him. He actually had been right about her. She had definitely brightened his mood. The past two months had been very hard on him. After months of regular sex with her, it had been extremely difficult for him to go for weeks without seeing her. Phone sex just wasn't the same. Had he been able to finagle a single day off during that time, he would definitely have gone home to see her, but the Bureau had him on a very tight leash at the moment. There was tremendous pressure on him and his team to get their program ready for implementation, and they'd run into a number of problems that had proven difficult to resolve. His days began early and ended late. At the end of each day, he dragged himself home, called Eames if it wasn't too late and ate a quick, light meal. He settled on the couch to unwind with a couple of beers and watched the late news. Sometimes he made it to his bed. More often, he fell asleep before the news was over.<p>

Although he was inclined to stay in all weekend with Eames, making up for lost time, he realized that it wouldn't be fair to her—or to Logan. He remembered that she got upset when he made decisions for her, but she also got irritated with him when he let her make the decisions, so he wasn't quite sure what to do. Whatever they did, he wanted to be sure they included Logan, so staying in bed until Monday morning was out of the question. Maybe they could go to a movie that evening and spend the next day on Capitol Hill and the Mall. The museums of the Smithsonian had long fascinated him and the prospect of sharing even a day in any of the various museums with Eames thrilled him.

Beside him, Eames stirred, and he softly kissed her head. "You sleeping?" he whispered.

She stretched and made a quiet noise. "Not any more."

"I didn't mean to wake you."

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "You didn't." Rolling away from him, she got out of the bed and pulled on his t-shirt. "My bladder did."

When she returned to the bed, he pulled her back into his embrace, kissing her lightly. "I'll take you to see a movie, if that sounds good to you," he offered.

She nodded. "That sounds fine."

"What would you like to see?"

She gave it some thought. "I've been wanting to see _Across the Universe_. How does that sound to you?"

He didn't care what was on the screen. He was simply happy to be with her. "That's fine, but Logan may want to see something different."

"He's a big boy. He can do what he wants."

He looked at the time, surprised by how late it was. "It's getting late. Let's go see what he wants to do."

She slid out of bed and he watched her get dressed as he pulled on his boxers and jeans. Fully dressed, she turned to find him bare-chested and barefoot. "What are you waiting for?" she asked.

"I got distracted."

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. Turning from him, she left the room. He didn't waste any more time getting dressed.

* * *

><p>"I'll tell you what we can do," said Logan after hearing their plans for the evening. "You guys go to see <em>Across the Universe<em> and I'll go to see _Resident Evil_, and we'll meet back here later."

"Are you sure?" Goren asked.

"Positive."

Because Goren still seemed uncertain, he went on. "Look at it my way. If we go to see _Across the Universe_, you two will sit at the back of the theater and you'll miss the movie, anyway. I'll be stuck watching a movie I don't particularly want to see, not to mention the fact that I'd be sitting off by myself because I'm _not_ sitting in the back of a dark theater with the two of you. If we actually sit together and try to watch the damn thing, I get the feeling you and I will get into trouble. If we go to see _Resident Evil_, well, you might get distracted by the movie, and that might upset her because it's not her kind of movie. If you take her to a movie you don't really want to see, you won't get in trouble for not watching the movie."

"Suppose _I_ want to watch the movie?" Eames asked.

"That's between the two of you." He shifted his attention back to Goren. "Don't worry about me, buddy. You don't have to entertain me."

"Is it settled then?" Eames asked.

"I guess so," Goren answered, not quite sure how he'd entirely lost any input into their evening's plans. When she slid her hand into his, though, he no longer cared. As long as she was happy...which, at the moment, she was.

* * *

><p>Goren always liked to sit at the back of the theater when he went to a movie. That way, he always had something to do, whether or not the movie engaged him. People watching was one of his favorite pastimes.<p>

Once they were settled at the back of the half-full theater, Goren scanned the large room. The closest people to them were two couples four rows in front of them and off to either side. They were unlikely to be bothered if the movie failed to keep his attention, which Logan was convinced would be the case.

Goren lost interest during the first ten minutes of the movie, turning his attention elsewhere. He was content to sit with his arm around her, watching the couple off to the right begin to make out. Then he reached over and unbuttoned her top two buttons. She pushed his hand away and buttoned them back up. He unbuttoned them again. This time she grasped his hand, holding it as she buttoned her shirt with the other hand.

He gently nuzzled the side of her head, nibbling her ear and shifting his hand so he could move her shirt off her waist and stroke her belly. "Cut it out," she whispered, moving his hand again.

As soon as his mouth met hers, he became lost. He had missed her so much, and that caught him completely by surprise. Their surroundings dissolved, and the only thing that existed for him was the contact between them. His hand slid under her shirt, along her waist, up her back...

She withdrew suddenly, leaving him floundering for a moment. Then she leaned closer and hissed into his ear, "Come on."

Her voice carried an odd tone, but she wasn't angry yet. That much he could tell. She stepped into the aisle and grasped his hand when he joined her, tugging gently as she led him out of the dark theater.

He followed her out of the building and down the street, where the car was parked. When they got to the car, she released his hand. He had recovered his bearings by then and he got into the passenger seat silently, idly wondering if he was in trouble. At the moment, he couldn't read her, perhaps because he was afraid to see what she was thinking. Had he crossed some invisible line he didn't know was there?

"I...I'm sorry..." he muttered tentatively.

"For what?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"For being inconsiderate. You wanted to see that movie...but...I...I..." he trailed off, not sure exactly how to apologize because he really wasn't sorry for anything except causing her to miss the movie.

She started the car and pulled away from the curb. Only in traffic was she safe from his roaming hands. Only then did she smile. "Do you think for a moment that I would agree to go with you to see a movie I really wanted to see, knowing full well you would not be interested in the same movie?"

He was confused. "Uh...you...you have in the past."

"True enough. I did make that mistake once. Since then, I have only chosen movies I knew would hold your attention, which is no easy feat, mind you."

"So...why did you agree to go with me tonight?"

"Bobby, I haven't seen you in a month. I was ready to jump you right there in the theater. That's why we had to leave. I wasn't completely sure I could control myself."

He was still confused. "We could have stayed home."

"I didn't want to ruin a night out for you, since you don't seem to have those very often. Besides, I really enjoy going places with you."

"But you knew I'd be bored..."

"I thought I could handle you."

"You can. All you had to do was tell me to stop. You've never been shy about doing that."

"But I didn't want you to stop."

"Suppose I start in now?"

"Then I'll have to tell you to stop. The last thing we need to do is cause a wreck."

With a deep sigh, he rested his head back and closed his eyes, but he was anything but relaxed. His body was thrumming with tension and anticipation. When she parked outside his building, he opened the car door before she came to a full stop.

Amused, she moved with deliberate slowness. He shifted restlessly as he waited for her in the doorway, practically bouncing while she approached from the car, amused by his impatience.

Once the elevator doors closed, he backed her against the wall, claiming her mouth in a hard, desperate kiss. She slid her arms around him, parting her lips so his tongue could explore her mouth. They almost missed their floor.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she shoved him backwards before the doors closed. He stumbled for a step or two, regaining his balance quickly. He pulled her along as he resumed their kiss, pausing only long enough to open the door. As he kicked the door closed, her shirt fluttered to the floor. He could wait no longer...and neither could she.

* * *

><p>Goren woke early Monday morning, well before his alarm went off, which was not unusual for him. He held a sleeping woman in his arms, which <em>was<em> unusual for him. He felt good, another rarity. It had been a fun, relaxing weekend. By the time Logan arrived home Saturday night, he and Eames were already sleeping, physically spent from working through the repercussions of a dark movie theater and a bored Goren.

They'd spent Sunday exploring various museums of the Smithsonian, and even Logan had enjoyed it. Goren doubted that aesthetics played much of a role in his buddy's appreciation of the museums, but Logan had learned a few things, so it had been time well spent.

Eames shifted in his arms, snuggling deeper into his embrace, and he resented having to go in to work. He would much rather remain with her, spending a lazy day lounging and loving her. He was definitely not a lazy man, and he could not remember the last day he had absolutely nothing to do, but he found himself wanting just such a day.

He turned toward Eames and, with a gentle touch, eased her into a state of arousal. Unguarded and without reserve, she accepted his tender advances. Tension built slowly, but tipped over the edge suddenly and explosively. To keep from crying out, ever mindful of Logan in the other room, she bit into his shoulder.

The sharp, unexpected pain escalated his response to her, sending him over the edge unexpectedly.

As her body calmed, she snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest as her fingers slid in lazy circles over his skin. She was perfectly content to remain where she was, with his arm curled around her.

He was comfortable and relaxed, his mind calm and fuzzy, a rare state he fully welcomed. He softly kissed her head, then whispered, "Thank you for coming down for the weekend."

"I'm not leaving until Wednesday, you know."

"I know, but I have to work, and I'm sorry I won't be around very much."

"As long as you're home at night and I can sleep with you, I'll be fine."

He was quiet for a few minutes, the warm fuzziness gone from his head. "Would you give me an honest answer if I asked you a question?"

"If I have an honest answer to give."

"You do." He paused again. "You said you loved me, but honestly, did you mean it?"

His question surprised her, and she was quiet as she considered her answer. Life had taught him to question what people told him, how they felt, and he could not get away from that. But was she really just telling him what he wanted to hear? That was what he really wanted to know. "Bobby, you have to know that I truly care about you. I always have."

"Yes, I know that. But that wasn't what I asked."

Again, she hesitated, trying not to be annoyed that he would question her feelings. But he had his own interpretation of her silence. Without another word, he slid away from her, out of the bed. Switching off the alarm, he crossed the room, raiding both the dresser and the closet. When he grabbed his shoes, she softly said his name.

He looked at her through the darkness. "It's okay, Eames. I get it. And if you really want to go back to New York today, that's okay, too. I'll see you...soon."

She turned over in the bed and hugged his pillow, listening as he showered, spoke briefly with Logan and left. Nothing she could say would change what he thought. Somehow, her actions would have to convince him that she wasn't in their relationship just for the sex, that she honestly did love him. First, however, she had to convince herself of that, beyond a shadow of a doubt.


	5. A Balancing Act

When Eames came out of the bedroom, she found Logan sitting at the small kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a bagel. Preparing herself a cup, she sat across from him. "What did he tell you?" she asked without looking at him.

She wanted to know, yet she didn't, but she was honestly curious about how much Goren shared with Logan. She had a feeling he shared more with Logan than he would ever share with her, which left her feeling uncomfortably resentful. Of course, a man would always tell his bartender or his drinking buddy more than he would ever tell his spouse. Spouse? Where the hell had that analogy come from? She was still getting used to thinking of herself as his lover, even after six months. Marriage, if it were in the cards at all, was a _very_ long way down the road.

Swallowing his bite of bagel, he answered, "He really didn't have much to say since he was on his way out the door. He just asked me to take you home and to come back down Friday night."

"Alone?"

"He didn't say." He paused, then asked, "What happened, Alex?"

"What makes you think something happened?"

"I could tell he was upset. As happy as he was to see you, something major must have happened to upset him enough to ask me to drive you home two days early."

She stared at the table, cradling her cup as she tried to sort through her emotions. Finally, she said, "Will you talk to him, Mike?"

"About what?"

"About me."

"You want me to stumble into a conversation with him about you? Do I look stupid?"

"Mike...please..."

That was the closest to begging he had ever heard from her. "First, you gotta tell me what I'm walking into. I will never enter a verbal sparring match with him unarmed. I don't particularly enjoy having my ass handed to me on a platter. Toss me a bone here, Alex. I need to know what's going on with you."

If she was going to enlist Logan's cooperation, she realized, she was going to have to bring him into her confidence, something that did not come easily to her. She looked into her coffee and decided to test his loyalty, to Goren and to her. "If it doesn't work out between us, would you consider dating me?"

Her question caught him by surprise and he stared at her for a long time before he found his voice again. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am," she answered. She didn't have any interest in dating Logan at all, but he didn't have to know that. It might be good to have him off balance for once. She just had to know if he _would_ date her, if given the chance, or if he would stand by his loyalty for Goren.

He shook his head slowly, sincerely, and replied, "Honey, not for all the beer in Germany."

"Why? Am I not your type?"

"Okay, sure, let's go with that."

"Come on, Logan, I want to know." She almost said 'need' instead of 'want'.

"Look, even if you were my type, I wouldn't go anywhere near you, not in that way. Maybe you don't want to hear this, but like it or not, he loves you, and that isn't going to change, whether you're together or not. I would never, in a million years, betray him like that."

That was the answer she'd hoped he would give, the one she was looking for and expected. Logan had proven himself a good friend, time and again, and his answer confirmed his worth as a friend one more time. She was glad he and Goren had become friends—not that Goren needed, or sought out, her approval. In fact, she was pretty sure both men were convinced she didn't even like Logan. She pressed him for another answer. "Under the same circumstances, if you were inclined that way, would you date him?"

Logan laughed, in part to cover his discomfort, not just with her question, but with his answer. "If I were so inclined...yeah, I would."

"But you wouldn't date me? Isn't that kind of a double standard?"

"Not at all. My friendship with you, if you can call it that, exists only because of my friendship with him. If I dated you, I would betray him. But dating him would be nothing to you, from my perspective...if that makes any sense."`

"Oddly, it does. At least, I understand what you mean."

Logan didn't know where she was going with her line of questioning, and he was still uncomfortable. He took another bite of bagel and thought while he chewed. Maybe their relationship wasn't any of his business, but it seemed to be in trouble, and Goren was his friend. After giving it some serious thought, he made up his mind to do something he had never done before. For Goren's sake, and his alone, he was going to intervene in this relationship, but it was going to be tricky. He had a feeling Eames was going to make it difficult for him, and his concern was justified.

Eames, he knew, was confused, torn by indecision which affected her ability to give Goren any kind of emotional commitment. He wasn't sure Goren realized that yet, which was unusual since he was normally so observant and insightful about the behavior of others. Where Eames was concerned, however, Goren was often clueless, which puzzled Logan. So his first order of business, if he was going to help them, was to figure out what was going on with them. Goren was an easier mark for him, but right now he was with Eames, so he would start with her.

He finished his bagel, washing it down with the rest of his coffee, then he gave her a steady look. "It's been six months since you started sleeping with him, right?"

"Right."

"Well, you have to be getting something from it or you wouldn't stay. He's not the easiest person in the world to deal with. So is it the sex that keeps you around?"

"As great as the sex is, no, it's not why I stay."

"Then why _do_ you stay?"

"Because he's earned it," she replied after a long hesitation.

"He's _earned_ it? Please tell me that was just bad wording."

She hesitated again, considering her response instead of snapping at him, which was her first inclination. "I care about him deeply, and he knows that. But I'm still trying to work out what else I feel."

"Forgive me for prying, but how difficult can it be to decide if you love him or not?"

Annoyed, she rose from her seat and stepped away from the table. "You're right, Logan. You're prying."

He knew that he'd been pushing it, and he let her withdraw from the conversation with one more thought to consider. "Look, either you want my help or you don't," he said. "And if this is how you ask someone for help, it's no wonder you have to do it all yourself."

"Fine. Forget I said anything."

She left the room, returning to the bedroom. She had a lot of thinking to do. She had to decide what she wanted from her relationship with Goren. It would be so very easy to love him, if she just gave herself the freedom to do it. But so much came with loving him, both good and bad. What she had to decide, once and for all, was whether the positive aspects of being with him outweighed the negative ones. She'd told him that she loved him, but for some reason, he had doubts. Maybe because he somehow sensed the doubt in her. He seemed to want something permanent with her, but was she willing to make the same commitment to him?

* * *

><p>Logan left the apartment, hoping Eames would put some real thought into where her relationship with Goren was going. She was waffling on making a commitment to him, and she was trying to put that off on him, but it wasn't Goren's fault, not at all. Her indecision was her own. Goren was doing everything right for a change.<p>

At lunchtime, he found his way to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building, which wasn't far from the White House, Capitol Hill and the museums they'd explored the previous day. He requested to see his friend, signed in and waited for his escort.

The escort led him to Goren's office, a small space cluttered with papers and books, where Goren was focusing on his computer with a pretty co-worker looking over his shoulder, her hand on his back. Logan knew by the look on Goren's face that he was barely aware of her, and he smiled. _Only Goren..._

"Knock, knock," he said.

Goren looked up, pulling himself out of his problem and smiling, obviously glad to see him. "Mike...what are you doing here?"

The other agent stepped back, frowning at him. Logan took an immediate dislike to her. She had the look of a predator and her eye was on Goren. "I thought maybe you could take a break for lunch," Logan offered, pointedly ignoring the female agent.

The woman spoke up. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said in a tone that mimicked sincerity. Logan knew she wasn't sorry at all. "He and I have plans to work over lunch."

Goren waved a hand, clearly dismissing her, which she did not like at all. "It's okay, Martino. An hour won't set us any further behind than we already are. Why don't you see if Greg is free and I'll get back with you after lunch."

Her scowl deepened as she walked around the desk, glaring at Logan the entire way. Logan returned her glare, dislike for dislike. Goren took no notice. Once she was gone, Logan turned his attention back to his friend. "Who was she?"

"Just one of the agents working on this project with me."

"I don't like her."

"She can be abrasive," Goren agreed.

"I hope you don't plan to introduce her to Eames. They may shoot each other on the spot. She was definitely not happy to see me, and I doubt she considers me competition."

"Competition for what?"

Logan gave him an incredulous look. "You don't see it? Man, she's got her sights set on you."

Goren waved his hand again. "Don't worry about it. I can handle her."

"I think that's what she's counting on."

"I'm not available," he insisted, and that was the bottom line for him. He wasn't available to anyone but Eames. "Is Alex with you?"

Logan hated to dash the hope he heard in Goren's voice. "No, sorry. She has no idea I was coming down here to see you."

Goren gave that a moment's thought. "I thought you were going back to New York."

"Do you really want us to go?"

"Eames wants to go. That's what matters," he said as he came around the desk and grabbed his suit jacket. "Do you mind if we eat downstairs? I really have to get back as soon as I can. We're behind schedule as it is."

"No, that's fine. What makes you think she wants to go back?"

"She doesn't seem to want to be here."

"Bobby, I think you're misreading her."

"I'm not. Did you come down here to discuss Alex?"

Experience had taught Logan to carry on a conversation like the one they were having, easily following as they jumped from subject to subject. "Not specifically. I came to see you."

Goren hesitated as they got into the elevator, but he didn't say anything on the ride down to the main floor. When they got out on the first floor and headed for the cafeteria, he said, "You could have brought her."

"Maybe I should have, for your sake. But I left so she could do some thinking. I didn't really plan to come down here until I found myself on the Mall and realized it was lunchtime. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing."

"Thinking? About what?"

"About you, mostly. Is the food here any good?"

"It's good, for cafeteria food. Better than what we get at 1PP."

"There's a shocker."

"Is she okay?"

_Back to Eames_. Logan wasn't surprised. Goren's thoughts always strayed back to Eames. He didn't quite know what to say to set his friend at ease. He wished he could reassure him about his relationship, but he couldn't. At the moment, it was all in Eames' hands, and he could not predict her response. Neither, apparently, could Goren. "Look, Bobby, I know things between you and Alex can be tense..."

"Tense? Is that what you see?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I know you love her, and I know that you know that she has to work out some shit in her head. You're good about giving her space. Now just give her some time."

"Time...All she's had is time, Mike. If she can't figure things out after all the time I've been away, maybe it's just not going to work out."

That could not have been an easy conclusion to reach. "You expect her to work through all this with you two hundred miles away and unavailable? So just how much time do you think she needs? What's her deadline?"

Goren shook his head, glad he hadn't made that slip of the tongue with Eames. "No. I didn't mean it that way. I just..." He stopped talking to pay for their meals, and they found an empty table. "I don't know what to think," he finished lamely.

"Tell me this: Are you absolutely sure you love her?"

"Yes. That's not an issue, not for me. The problem, if there is one, lies with her."

Logan took a bite of his burger. He was surprised that Goren was not taking the blame, as was his tendency. Maybe he was more astute than Logan gave him credit for. "Why do you think that is?" he asked when he'd swallowed.

Silently, Goren seasoned his meal. "I think she's scared."

"Of you?"

"No...God, I hope not. Do you think she is?"

Sometimes Logan forgot how difficult it could be to talk through anything with Goren. "No, Bobby. She's not afraid of you. Not physically, anyway."

"So you agree? You think she's scared, too?"

"I think she's afraid to love. Why do you think she's been alone for the past decade? Come on, man—you're the one with the innate understanding of the way people work."

Goren shifted uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder as though he expected Eames to suddenly turn up, listening. "She gets furious when I profile her, when I try to read her or interpret her behavior. She...she threatened to get another partner if I kept it up. So I trained myself not to do it, but sometimes I can't help it, and then I feel guilty as hell about it and I worry she'll find out." He took a drink of his coffee. "I've got myself tied up in knots over her right now."

Logan took a few minutes to organize his thoughts before he spoke. "Things between you have changed, Bobby. It's time to step away from the partner dynamic, at least for now. You can worry about playing it up for Ross later. Right now, you _have to_ read her, to interpret and understand her. You have to help her decide what to do because she's struggling with it on her own."

"How can I help her decide she loves me?"

Mike ate a couple of fries. "She's already decided that, I think. She's just fighting it because it scares the hell out of her." He waved his hands in the air, one index finger raised. "I'm on the outside, looking in. You wear your heart on your sleeve when you aren't hiding from the world. Whether you like it or not, you took the fall, and there's no going back now. Alex is still hiding from what she feels. The last man she let herself fall in love with took a bullet in the line of duty. She's spent most of the last ten years of her life with her heart in her throat, watching you step in front of loaded guns and unstable people, putting your own life on the line to protect hers, to protect the innocent, without a moment's hesitation. Her biggest fear is that, if she takes that final step and admits to herself, to you, to the world, that she loves you, the next loaded gun you put yourself in front of will be the last. So, irrationally, she holds it all in to keep you alive."

"So when she said she loved me..."

"She actually said it?"

Goren nodded. "She did."

Logan thought that over for a minute. "Let me guess. It was after that fight you had Saturday morning and you were in bed when she said it."

"Uh...yeah. How'd you know?"

"I've been there. I'm not saying she didn't mean it, or that it was the wrong thing to say, but I don't think she was ready to say it. My guess is she was caught up in the moment. It's pretty easy to say 'I love you' right after sex with a captive audience of one. When she can say it in the middle of Central Park and not care who hears it...well, then you'll know she's worked it all through."

"So now she's just telling me what I want to hear?"

"I think it's more along the lines of what _she_ wants to feel." He noticed Goren's reaction. "Don't go reading too much into it, man. You both have your issues with love. You just worked through yours faster, which is pretty amazing, if you think about it. But you know what losing Joe did to her. She's just a little slow on the uptake with her heart, but she'll come around. It's just gonna take awhile." He took another bite of his burger. "Why did you leave so abruptly this morning?"

"I had to get to work."

"The sun wasn't even up."

"The sooner I get here, the quicker this damn project gets done and I can go home."

Logan wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. "You seemed out of sorts."

"I was, and I don't want to discuss it."

"Fine." He ate another couple of fries which he chased with a gulp of soda while Goren silently ate his chicken. Logan shifted the subject away from Eames for the moment. "So tell me what's up with that Martino chick and the doomsday glare she was giving me. She seems awfully friendly with you."

Goren waved his hand, the same dismissive gesture he'd given Martino. "She's harmless. She's married."

"Unfortunately, being married doesn't necessarily mean she's harmless. And I was not imagining that glare she was giving me. She's got it bad for you, man."

Goren scowled. He did not need to hear that. "Well, it's not reciprocated. I belong to Alex, at least until she decides that I don't. And whatever her marriage means to her, it makes her off limits to me."

"Is she your partner?"

"No. She's just working on the project with me. My partner's name is Alan Decker. He was a high school football star who never let it go to his head. We get along."

"A football jock? What position?"

"Quarterback."

"King of the prom?"

"I never asked."

As if on cue, someone called Goren's name. They looked up as a young man approached them. He was about 30 with Rock-Hudson-movie-star good looks. Broad-chested and muscular, he had sandy brown hair and a well-trimmed mustache, and though he wore off-the-rack suits like Logan used to, he carried himself well, without the cocky arrogance Logan had at his age. He stopped by the table, resting a friendly hand on Goren's shoulder. "You're actually taking a lunch?" He looked at Logan. "I don't know how you managed it, but good job. He usually has a sandwich and a cup of bad coffee at his desk while he works."

"I've seen that more times than I can count," Logan concurred, extending his hand. "Mike Logan. I worked with Bobby in New York."

"Alan Decker. I have the dubious distinction of being his partner while he's here at the Bureau."

"Why don't you join us?"

Decker looked to Goren for his opinion of Logan's offer. "Any objection?"

Goren shook his head. "Go grab your lunch...just promise me you won't pull out one of those God-awful protein and spinach shakes you drink."

"Didn't I promise I wouldn't do that again?"

"Just reminding you."

Decker flashed a grin that would melt Siberia. "Be right back."

As he walked off, Logan said, "Wow. Good thing I didn't bring Alex along," he teased.

Goren's expression turned dark. "What does that mean?"

"Hey, I was joking."

Goren shifted his gaze back to his plate and he poked at his mashed potatoes with his fork. Logan watched him, waiting for some kind of verbal acknowledgment. When Goren didn't look back at him, he said, "I really was joking. Do you honestly think another guy could turn her head?"

"You've seen pictures of Joe," he muttered. "Alan could pass for his brother."

Logan compared the features of the two men in his mind. "Yeah, maybe...hey, you don't think...c'mon, man, she's with _you_."

"At the moment. I feel like I'm walking on quicksand with her, Mike."

"Do you doubt that she loves you?"

"I don't know what to think." He paused before finally looking up at Logan. "Tell me the real reason you didn't bring her with you, Mike."

"I told you that already. She has some thinking to do."

"About me."

Logan glanced toward the food line to check Decker's progress through it. "Look, Bobby, she doesn't have any plans to dump you, if that's what you're worried about. Her emotions are kind of jumbled and she needs to sort through them."

"So why does she stay? She has to be getting something from it, but what?"

"She stays because you make her happy."

"Do I? You think she gets off on all the arguing?"

"Maybe she does. Or maybe she fights with you for the make-ups."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said. Come on...she tries to be quiet, but I can hear the mice breathing in the wall spaces of your apartment, the walls are so thin."

Goren didn't look the least bit self-conscious, though he knew Eames would not be happy about that revelation. "She does get into it sometimes." He paused for a thoughtful minute. "Do you think that's why she stays, Mike?"

"No," he answered with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I asked her."

"And she answered you?"

"She was in a generous mood."

Decker chose that moment to return with his lunch, a huge deli sandwich and two bags of chips with a large soda. "Does this suit you better?" he asked with a teasing grin as he slid into the booth beside Goren.

"Mud pies would suit me better," Goren replied with the trace of a smile.

"How bad can a protein shake be?" Logan asked, slipping into the change of topic as seamlessly as Goren had.

"I'll have him make one for you sometime," Goren answered. "But not at my place. It took me three days to get the smell out the last time he made one."

"I told you not to knock it until you've tried it," Decker protested.

Logan looked accusingly at Goren. "Considering the odor of some of the things I've seen you eat, I'm kind of leery to try something you won't." He looked at Decker as he pointed at Goren. "Octopus, beef tongue...and some kind of disgusting stew made from organ meat that smelled, well, I know it's dead, but it's not supposed to _smell_ dead."

"Yeah, well, at least it wasn't slimy," Goren replied.

Logan waved a fry at the two men. "So one of you drinks the primordial ooze and the other one eats what crawls out of it. You're a match made in heaven."

All three of them laughed and enjoyed the rest of their meal.

* * *

><p>Once they were done eating, Decker excused himself. "See you upstairs," he said to Goren, squeezing his shoulder before shaking Logan's hand. "It was nice to meet you, Mike. Hope we can do this again."<p>

"I'll drop by next time I'm in town."

"It's a date."

Goren laughed quietly as they left the cafeteria. "He likes you," he said.

Logan was pleased by his friend's more relaxed, happier mood. "I like him, too."

"No, Mike. He _likes_ you."

"He...oh...he's gay."

Goren nodded. "He likes 'em tall, dark and handsome."

"And he's not hitting on you?"

"I'm not available, and besides, he's my partner."

"That's right," Logan joked as they left the building and Goren lit a cigarette. "You're already dating one partner. It might get confusing."

"You're an ass," Goren replied without venom.

"I've had tons of practice," Logan retorted.

They walked off to the side of the building, and Goren leaned back against it, looking up into the clear blue sky as he took a deep drag. It was cool and crisp, but clear and breezy. "How sure are you that she doesn't stay with me because of the sex?"

"Nothing is for certain, Bobby, but I think she was telling me the truth."

"Do you think she loves me?"

"She's the only one who can answer that one for certain, but I do think she loves you. Whether or not she loves you the way you love her, I can't say."

"Are you going home today?"

"Are you rescinding what you told me this morning?"

Goren shrugged. "I...I, uh, I didn't really mean it."

"I know. Just checking. If Alex wants to leave, we'll go."

Goren nodded slowly as he put out the butt in a nearby ashtray. He was convinced she would want to leave. "You'll come down next weekend?"

"Of course I will."

He gave Logan's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "See you then, Mike."

"Are you that sure she'll want to leave?"

Goren nodded. "Drive safely."

Logan watched him leave, worried about his conviction that Eames would return to New York before he came home. Of course, he wasn't completely convinced she would stay. No one could turn their world upside down the way she could, and she wasn't even trying. He headed toward the parking garage near Capitol Hill where he'd left his car.

* * *

><p>Goren was certain that Eames would not be waiting for him when he got home, so he didn't go directly home. He was simply unable to handle even the thought of his empty apartment without some kind of fortification. His suspicions were reinforced when he finally got home and Logan's car was not there. When he opened the apartment door, he froze, staring in disbelief at Eames, sitting on the couch.<p>

She knew from his posture that he had been drinking, but she said nothing, uncertain of his mindset. She waited in silence for him to make the first move. After all, he was the one who chose to leave without working things out that morning, although she had let him go. That placed them both at fault, though she chose to lay more of the blame on his lifelong tendency to retreat rather than confront someone he loved.

He said nothing, silently crossing the room to the kitchen. He didn't know what to make of her presence. It meant something, but he didn't know what, and that unsettled him.

She listened as he rummaged around in the kitchen, certain he wasn't fixing dinner. The clink of glass confirmed her suspicion, and he returned to the living room, holding a glass in his left hand. The amber liquid was not apple juice, she knew.

He watched her, his mind screaming at him to proceed with caution. "Why didn't you go home with Logan?"

"Logan didn't go home. He went out for the evening."

"Why?"

"Because I asked him to."

"Why would you do that?"

Her mind gave in to her annoyance with the thought, _So I would have no witnesses._ Aloud, however, she said, "No reason. I just like messing with him."

He didn't offer any debate nor did he show any amusement, which was what she'd been hoping for. He also made no move to approach her. Since the couch was the only seating in the room, he remained standing, cautiously taking sips from his glass. She motioned for him to join her. After a moment's hesitation, he complied with her request, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. She waited to see if he intended to stay there. Realizing that he did, she slid closer to him. To her dismay, his tension level shot through the roof, but she was reassured when he didn't bolt to his feet to get away. Granted, he would likely have sent himself careening into the wall on the other side of the room if he did, but she still took it as a good sign that he stayed beside her. Wisely, she did not touch him right away.

"You left this morning without waiting for my answer," she gently chided.

He shrugged. "I changed my mind. I never should have asked you that."

"Why not? Don't you want to know?"

"I thought I did, but I was wrong."

"Bobby..."

"Please, Eames. Just let it go. I'm...content with things the way they are, so let's not upset the apple cart."

She felt her irritation rise, and she fought to keep it from getting away from her. "So you're okay with thinking I'm just in this relationship for the sex?"

He looked away, taking a drink before he answered, "I'm okay with keeping you in this relationship with me without looking too deeply into the reasons why you stay."

He was an enigma to her, and she was trying to understand him. "Why would you be okay with that? Bobby, you deserve a woman who loves you..."

"I don't want a woman who loves me!" he interrupted, panic preventing him from letting her finish her statement. "I just...I just want you."

His words, and the tone that carried them, struck her directly in the heart. Tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden, but he was not looking at her, so he didn't see them. Remarkably, her voice remained steady. "Why would you saddle yourself with someone you think doesn't love you?"

Still staring at the floor, he answered, "Because I love you."

"And?"

He shrugged. "As long as you're getting something out of it, you'll stay. I will...I'll give you anything you want."

"Is that a bribe?"

"No. It's a promise."

"Do you think it's enough that you love me?"

He didn't care that his love was unrequited. All he truly cared about was that she stayed. "It has to be."

The conversation was ripping her heart to pieces, but she was following Logan's advice. She had to be sure of her feelings before she made a commitment. It was not fair to him if she stayed for any reason but that she loved him, no matter what he thought about it. Logan was absolutely right—Goren deserved to be with a woman who loved him in return. The big question remained unanswered: was she that woman?


	6. A Saucy Surprise

Goren woke with the alarm the next morning, a nagging headache behind his eyes. The second thing he noticed was that Eames was sleeping beside him. Of course she was. Where else was she going to sleep? On the couch with Logan? Only if she shot him first.

She was nestled against him and, before he realized what he was doing, he slipped his arms around her. They'd solved nothing the night before, and he'd gone to bed first. He had to have fallen asleep right away because he didn't remember anything else and they were both clothed.

Softly, he placed a kiss behind her ear. He was troubled by her indecisiveness about him, about their relationship. But that didn't affect his love for her or his desire, as long as she was still willing to have him.

She was.

* * *

><p>Goren stood in front of the coffee pot in the break room at work, waiting for the damn thing to finish brewing. <em>This has to be the slowest damn coffee pot in the Capitol<em>, he thought irritably. He hated being in Washington, away from everyone and everything he knew and loved, away from Logan, away from Eames. Someone came into the room behind him, but he didn't react.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in, will ya?"

His mouth turned up at the corner. He really did like his FBI partner. Decker was about the only one in the city he honestly did like. "What are you doing in here, Decker? You don't drink coffee."

"And you drink too much coffee. What's your point?"

"You're a creature of habit, and this room is not in your routine."

"No, but finding my partner is...and touche for picking up on the routine thing. Just so no one catches on, I try to change it up a little every day."

"Which is part of your routine," Goren answered as he poured the black gold from the carafe into his cup and moved to grab the creamer from the refrigerator.

Decker laughed. "Figures you'd be the one to notice. So what's up with you? You have too much fun with your house guest from the Big Apple?"

"Not with the house guest you're thinking of."

Decker arched a golden brow. "You have two guests from home?"

"Mike came down with my par...uh, my..." He wasn't completely sure just what to call her and it took a moment for him to muster the nerve to say, "My girlfriend."

Decker couldn't hide his surprise. "You've got a girl?"

Although they had been partners for two months—the profiling genius from New York and the programming whiz from Dallas—Decker knew very little about Goren. Conversely, Goren knew that he grew up on a large ranch outside Dallas with eight siblings and that he'd left home at seventeen to find his path in life. As one of the youngest in the brood, his destiny didn't lay with the cattle ranch his father loved. There were too many in line before him, and his oldest brother, Clayton, shared his father's passion for the rough life of a hands-on rancher. Decker had found his own passion in law enforcement and computers, earning his college degree in computer programming with a minor in criminal law before he was hired by the Bureau.

Goren's background in criminal psychology meshed well with Decker's more technical skills, earning them several nicknames among their peers, from the 'Dynamic Duo' to the 'Whiz Kids'. Goren took it all in stride, but he was surprised to find himself more well-accepted among his Bureau colleagues than he ever was among his NYPD peers. The Bureau was the place for misfits, Logan once told him. He should have gone with the Bureau when he came home from the Army, but he was thinking of his mother and, at the time, the NYPD wanted him. He wasn't sure just when that had changed, but he'd never gotten along well with his peers. His quirky nature and brilliant mind were off-putting to the more traditional cops he worked with...until he was assigned to Major Case. He didn't get along any better at first, but Deakins was a captain he respected, a man he could work with and answer to. And although he didn't get along with Eames at first, that changed, evolving over time into whatever it was they currently had.

Goren nodded at Decker's question as he took a drink of the hot coffee. He rubbed his temple to relieve some of the residual pain the aspirin hadn't chased away and sat down in one of the four uncomfortable cafeteria-style chairs that surrounded the lone table in the room. Decker sat across from him and commented, "Martino will be crushed."

Goren shook his head. "Martino never had a chance with me. First of all, she's married, and Greg treats her like a queen. I like him, and I would never do that to him."

"Do what to him? They have what's called an open marriage. Martino isn't the type to settle down with one man, and Greg knows it. He gives her the freedom she craves, as long as she never flaunts it in front of him and she spends the nights in his bed. He's no saint, either."

"That's between them. As long as she's married, she's off limits to me. That's just the way I am."

"Is that the only reason you won't hop into bed with her?"

"It's the only one that matters, as far as anyone is concerned."

"I'm not talking about anyone but you."

Goren hesitated, taking another, deeper drink of his coffee. The caffeine was beginning to ease the residual throbbing in his head and his muscles relaxed a little, which helped to ease the pain a little more. "I'm not available, Alan. I have a full life back in New York that I have no plan to leave."

"So if the Bureau made you an offer?"

"Why would they do that?"

Decker's brow knitted together. "Seriously? You can't see your own worth?"

That had always been a major shortcoming of his. "What are you talking about?"

"It's the FBI, buddy. Take a guy who's a born profiler, toss in genius-level smarts and a passion for justice, and they get a major hard-on. You have a natural ability that trumps what the rest of us have had to struggle to develop and work hard to keep sharp. I guarantee, at the end of this project, they'll offer you a position in the field. They won't just tuck you away at Quantico."

"I don't want a job with the Bureau. I like what I have in New York."

"There's a field office in New York."

"And no guarantee they'll keep me there. I could end up in Phoenix or Chicago or Billings, Montana. No, thanks. New York is my home, and that's where I'll stay."

"How much does your buddy Mike have to do with that decision?"

Goren smiled. "Not as much as you think, but yeah, he is part of the reason I don't want to leave."

"Him and your loyalty to the NYPD?"

"My what?" he snorted derisively. "I owe them nothing."

"So why stay?"

"Because..." he trailed off. "I don't have to justify my decision. I just...I have my reasons."

His instinct to protect Eames was deeply rooted, and trust was still a major issue with him. He liked Decker but, while he trusted him with his life, he had not taken the larger step to trust him with anything personal.

"What's her name?" Decker asked with a small grin, knowing Goren was off his game at the moment.

It was a simple question, asked with innocence and genuine curiosity, but it set Goren on edge. Decker, although not a natural like Goren, was experienced, and he could read the tension in his partner. He wondered at the driving force behind it, though. "What are you afraid of?"

"Very little," Goren replied honestly. All the fear in his life began and ended with Eames.

"I believe that. But what is it about your girl that sets you so on edge?"

_Everything._ Goren finished his coffee, rose and poured himself another cup. "We have work to do," he said. "We'd better get to it."

Decker watched him leave the room, his handsome face a mask of concern. At 5'10 and 160 pounds, Decker still maintained his quarterback's body. He wasn't a big guy, but he was fast—on his feet and in his mind. Although Goren had a good six inches on him and close to a hundred pounds, even though he'd slimmed down quite a bit since coming to Washington, Decker had never been intimidated by his bigger partner. Once Goren settled in, his quiet nature and handsome face began drawing him notice around the building. As his physique improved, that attention increased, but he seemed uncomfortable with it. Now Decker had an idea why. If he had a girl back home, one he was particularly attached to, he wouldn't be interested in having one in Washington as well. At least, that was Decker's interpretation of Goren's character. He wondered how close to the mark he was.

* * *

><p>Goren wasn't surprised to find Martino sitting at his desk, waiting for him. She was an attractive brunette with a curvy figure, and he liked watching her, but he didn't welcome her advances nor did he particularly enjoy the attention she gave him. He kept trying to steer her back in her husband's direction, but she didn't take the hint. Instead, she saw it as a challenge, and that irritated him. "Problem, Martino?" he asked as he motioned her out of his chair.<p>

She rose, shifting past him in the cramped space. Setting his coffee down, he rolled his eyes when she intentionally brushed her ample breasts against him. Annoyed, he sat down and turned on his computer. "No problem," she answered.

"Then get back to your desk and get busy. I want those algorithms done today."

"But..."

He looked up sharply, his eyes dark and dangerous. He saw the desire flash across her face, but he did not react to it and, wisely, she didn't challenge him. With a pout on her pretty face, she turned abruptly and left the office.

Shaking his head, he turned to his computer, his headache driven away by his anger, at least for the moment. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>When he exited the elevator on his floor, he was met by the smell of cooking food. <em>Italian<em>._ Pasta with sausage and a spicy marinara._ _Mrs. Mancuso must be cooking again_, he mused. The entire floor smelled like an Italian village when she cooked.

His stomach growled. He'd taken his lunch hour to work out in the gym, eating a quick sandwich at his desk as he pushed his team to work through another goddam glitch. He was tired and grouchy, a brand new headache pounding a whole different beat in his head from the one with which he'd started the day. His neck was stiff and his back hurt.

This would be his last night with company until the weekend. Granted it would be just a few days, at least until Logan came back, but he didn't welcome the solitude, not right now. He knew by the problems that had cropped up over the course of the day that he was stuck in Washington for another weekend, and he hated it. He missed New York, and he didn't like Eames making the trip down to the Capitol. She swore she didn't mind the drive, but he felt guilty for putting her out. She should be home, sleeping in her own bed, spending her days off playing with her nephew, who would not be little forever.

His mood darkened as he slid the key into the lock and opened his door. Logan waved at him from the couch. Goren looked around the room, surprised to find that the smell that filled the hallway had come from _this_ apartment, not the one down the hall. "What's going on?"

"I've been banned from the kitchen."

"Why?"

A voice from the kitchen answered, "Because it was either that or break his hand to keep him out of the food."

Logan grinned. "I had no idea she could cook."

"Last time I knew, she couldn't."

Another disembodied answer. "I've spent some time with Mrs. Gianni in your old building. She taught me how to make this." She poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled at him. "Surprise."

She was wearing an apron covered in sauce, her hair gathered on top of her head. Several splotches of sauce colored her cheeks and her forehead, which glistened with sweat. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the stove.

He set his briefcase by the door and took off his jacket, draping over the arm of the couch before crossing to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking around. She had destroyed his kitchen. He blinked a few times, wondering how someone so small could cause so much destruction in such a short period of time. There were cans and boxes all over the counters, pots and pans on each burner of the stove, dishes piled in and around the sink...and there was sauce _everywhere_.

In the midst of it all was Eames, opening another can of tomatoes. "I don't understand why there's not enough sauce," she puzzled, mostly to herself.

He watched her add the contents of the can to a pot on the front burner. She didn't have enough sauce because she had coated the kitchen in it. Stirring the pot, she twisted her head to look at him. "I wanted it to be done when you got home. I guess I miscalculated. I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm surprised, trust me."

"I know how much you love Mrs. Gianni's food, so after you got sent down here, I began visiting her, and I asked her to show me how to make one of the dishes you liked. This is the fifth dish she taught me, and she promised it was your favorite. I have a feeling she dumbed it down for me. She got frustrated a few times."

He just nodded, not knowing what to say. Logan appeared behind him. "Whoa..." he said. "If I'd known you were going to repaint the kitchen in pasta sauce, I would have helped."

Eames waved a wooden spoon at him, flinging more sauce onto the stove and the floor. "Logan, I swear..."

Goren reached out and gently took the spoon from her hand, setting it back in the pot. "Cooking isn't your strongest skill," he said softly.

Her kitchen at home remained seldom used until he started coming around regularly. More often than not, she ate at her sister's or grabbed a bite on the way home until he began cooking for her, for _them_. Her kitchen was used for coffee and dishes that did not require much preparation. She made a great salad. She never learned to cook because she hated it, and he knew that. For her to go all out and not only learn to prepare a full meal, but to implement that just for him...

He leaned down and kissed her carefully, trying not to get tomato sauce on his white shirt. "I'm going to get changed, then I'll give you a hand..."

"No," she insisted. "Not a finger. I am doing this for you and I want to do it all myself. Go on. Get changed and watch whatever Logan's watching with him. This will be ready soon."

He looked around his sauce-coated kitchen one last time, his warm, dark eyes finally resting on his sauce-coated partner. "Thank you," he said softly, totally at a loss to find any other words.

She smiled radiantly and he took that image with him to the bedroom.

Logan followed him, closing the bedroom door behind him. Goren sat on the edge of the bed, not sure what to change into. Slowly, he loosened his tie. "How long has she been in there?"

"We went to the store first thing this morning. I guess she went in there to start sometime around four. She chased me out after about forty-five minutes."

Goren slid his tie free of his collar and unbuttoned his shirt, still staring at the floor. Logan said, "You look stunned."

"You have no idea."

"She did this all for you."

Slowly, Goren moved, slipping out of his shirt. More than anything she had ever done before, this one act of destruction and creation, of sacrifice in facing a task she hated, of putting in the time and effort to do something with which she was unfamiliar, spoke volumes to him. He looked at Logan. "She hates cooking. She hates anything she's not good at. The effort it took for her...the time...Mike, she cherishes her off-time. I can't imagine how much time it took for Mrs. Gianni to teach her..."

Logan was amused and he didn't try to hide it. Goren was stunned and baffled. He clearly didn't know what to make of it. Logan watched him as he took off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants. "What don't you get?" he asked as Goren carefully draped his pants over the back of a chair, then bent over to pick up the change that fell to the floor.

After emptying his pockets and placing his wallet, phone, change and keys on the dresser beside his gun and badge, Goren pulled open a drawer and removed a black t-shirt. He pulled off his white undershirt and pulled on the t-shirt. "I don't know. I...I wasn't expecting...this."

"What were you planning for the night?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't really have any plans. I thought maybe we'd get a pizza or some Chinese, watch TV. Just a regular evening."

"Just your normal dinner and a fight followed by make-up sex?"

Anger flashed briefly in Goren's eyes, but he chased it away quickly. "Something like that, I guess."

Logan didn't miss the flash of anger. "What was that? Did I hit a nerve?"

Goren shrugged. "I don't know. I...do you really think we fight too much?"

"What's too much? Bobby, you are both very passionate and that comes through in different ways. So you argue. What does it mean? It's never violent and it's only rarely driven by anger. Maybe it's just your version of foreplay. It really doesn't impact your relationship negatively, does it?"

Goren thought about it for a moment. "No, it doesn't."

"What does it do? It gets you all worked up and ready for the bedroom."

Finally, Goren smiled. "I guess it does. I...uh, I kind of like arguing with her."

"Most of 'em don't even qualify as arguments, at least, not the ones I've seen."

"No? What would you call them?"

Logan thought for a moment. "Spirited debates."

Slowly, Goren nodded. "That sounds about right."

He pulled out a pair of black jeans and stepped into them. As he slipped a belt through the loops, Logan asked, "How was your day?"

"Busy. Exhausting. Frustrating."

"How's your hangover?"

"I didn't have much of one, just a small headache. It was gone by lunchtime, and a brand new one took its place."

"Speaking of headaches, how's your other girlfriend, Martino?"

Goren's eyes flashed again, but this time he didn't chase away the anger. "Never say that again," he warned.

Logan was surprised by his reaction. "What's up? I was kidding."

Sitting on the bed again, Goren rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Mike. I just had a really long day and Martino only made it longer. If she weren't so good at what she does, I'd transfer her off the project. Mostly I ignore her, but sometimes, she gets really close to crossing the line."

"What'd she do today?"

"Just being there was enough to aggravate me today."

Logan chuckled. "She seemed a bit...aggressive." He paused for a moment before changing the subject. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"Do you mind if I stay for a little while longer?"

Goren looked at him, and he felt his spirits rise a little. "Here? With me?"

"What else would I mean?"

"I...uh, well...yeah, sure."

The thought of coming home and not being so alone was enough to chase away what remained of his gloomy mood. "How will Alex get home?"

"She can take the train. We discussed it this afternoon."

"She's okay with it?"

"She wants me to stay. She worries about you."

Goren didn't like that. He didn't want her to worry. He changed his socks and pulled on a pair of sneakers, then he looked at Logan. In a tone of hope that matched his expression, he said, "Mike, does she...I mean, do you think..?"

Logan was getting pretty good at reading him. "What? Do I think she loves you? We've had this discussion. You know what I think. What matters is what you think."

He looked at his hands. "I think...I mean, I'm beginning to think...maybe..." He looked up at Logan. "Maybe she does...love me."

Logan's smile was affectionate. "Yeah, buddy. Maybe she does. Come on. Before she thinks we're up to something in here and we get in trouble again."

With a smile, Goren seemed to relax. On the way to the living room, he stopped again in the kitchen doorway. She was busy at the stove, stirring, seasoning, tasting. Ignoring the mess around her, he focused on her. Even covered in sauce, she was beautiful. His body stirred in response to the desire that coursed through him.

She noticed that he was there, and she gave him another smile. She was in a very good mood, and he reacted to that as well. "Go," she lightly chided. "I'll be done soon."

Returning her smile, he went into the living room to watch television with Logan. Sauce-covered pasta for dinner and sauce-covered Eames for dessert. It didn't get better than that.


	7. Storm Clouds Gather

Eames coerced Logan into setting the table as she tossed a quick salad and dished out the pasta. As she stood at the sink, washing up, Goren came up behind her. Leaning down, he kissed her neck. "You taste good," he murmured.

She laughed and leaned back into him. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he murmured as he kissed her neck some more.

"What did you have for lunch?"

"Just a quick sandwich. I spent most of the lunch hour in the gym."

She relaxed in his arms, eyes closed as he continued to kiss her. After a minute she roused herself. "Come on, baby; let's eat," she murmured.

He froze. "What did you call me?"

"Uhm..." she hesitated, thinking back because she hadn't been thinking when she spoke. "I think I said 'baby.' Is that a problem?"

"I...uhm...is it?"

She turned to face him. "Since I said it, I don't think it's a problem for me. Is it for you?"

He swallowed as he studied her face, then he leaned forward and kissed her gently. He pulled her closer, kissing her more deeply. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his as she parted her lips for his tongue.

In the doorway, Logan cleared his throat. "If you two want to play around in the sauce," he said with amusement. "That's fine with me, but I'm hungry. So I'll take my plate to the living room and leave you guys to it."

With another laugh, Eames stepped out of Goren's arms and gripped his hand. "Maybe we should join him."

"Before he joins us?" Goren countered, giving her another kiss.

She so enjoyed his playful side. Encouraged by his good mood, she tickled his ribs. "That will be a cold day in hell. Now let's eat."

* * *

><p>Once they were done eating, Eames began cleaning the kitchen, and, despite her protests, Goren pitched in to help her. While he cleaned the places that were out of her reach, she worked on cleaning the floors and the lower cabinetry.<p>

Engrossed in getting the sauce off the doors below the sink, she didn't realize he was directly behind her until he leaned close to her and spoke softly in her ear. "You have sauce behind your ear," he murmured.

When his tongue followed the whisper of his breath, she laughed. He pulled her to the floor as she continued to laugh.

Amused by the commotion, Logan came into the kitchen under the pretense of getting a beer. "Really, guys," he teased as he opened the refrigerator. "I would say get a room, but this place is so small, it's almost all the same room."

Goren had rolled onto his side when Logan started talking and Eames snuggled against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and smiled at his friend. Eames smirked. "Jealous, Logan?"

"Of you, yes," he joked. He glanced upward, then did a double take. "How'd you get sauce on the ceiling?"

With a soft chuckle, Goren turned his attention back to the sauce on his partner. Laughing, Logan returned to the living room as Eames closed her eyes and shifted her position. Goren worked his way to her mouth, and she groaned.

The kitchen didn't get cleaned.

* * *

><p>When Goren came home the next evening, Logan was waiting for him with a freshly delivered pizza and a couple of six-packs of beer. After changing, Goren dropped onto the couch beside his friend, opened a beer and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Taking a long drink, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Did Alex get her train okay?"<p>

"She did. You'll be happy to know she didn't want to go."

"That's good because I didn't want her to go."

"Are you two working through things?"

"I think so. Sometimes I get so distracted I forget we have anything to work through."

"I've noticed. Oh, by the way, you owe me. After I dropped her off, I needed something to do, so I cleaned the kitchen. I want to watch her cook next time. It was like Italy exploded in there, and I want to see how she does it."

Goren laughed and took another drink of his beer. He felt the day's tension slide away, and there was no other tension to take its place so fatigue began to creep in to claim him. He yawned. "I miss her, Mike. I miss her like hell."

"Any idea how much longer you're gonna be stuck here?"

"I have no clue. Every time I think we're making headway, something happens to cause a major setback."

Logan drained his beer and flipped open the pizza box. He handed Goren a slice. "Here, eat before you crash. You want another beer?"

Goren nodded as he took the pizza. "Thanks."

Logan went into the kitchen, returning with two beers. Handing one to Goren as he sat down, he said, "I was thinking..." He grabbed a piece of pizza. "Is there any chance your buddy Martino is monkey-wrenching your program to keep you around?"

Goren stopped with the beer halfway to his mouth, and Logan knew it had not occurred to him. The thought was out there now, and unfortunately, he could tell it had merit. He could also see the rage bubbling just under the surface and he knew that Goren's easy, relaxed manner was gone for the evening. He wondered if they had enough beer in fridge. What had been more an off-handed comment had changed into a viable scenario. "You think she's that underhanded?" he asked, knowing that the woman really had it bad for his friend.

"I will find out," Goren answered, his tone one of deadly calm that always unsettled Logan.

"Bobby..."

"I need a cigarette."

Logan watched him get up and grab his suit coat, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the pocket. Goren didn't usually smoke inside because it bothered Eames, so Logan knew he was really upset. He wasn't sure what to say, though, because he didn't want to make it worse. Then, Goren's phone rang.

He pulled it out and, without even looking at who the caller was, he answered, "Goren."

There was a moment of silence, then Eames said, "What's wrong?"

The two softly-spoken words purged all the anger from him, and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Long day...and...I miss you."

"I miss you, too. Do you want me to come down Friday night?"

"Yes," he replied without thinking. Then he tried to correct himself. "I mean...if you..."

"Bobby, don't. I asked because I wanted to know how you feel. I already know how I feel."

Anger burned a lot of energy, and without that anger to sustain him, his fatigue returned. "Will you come back?"

"I'll be there Friday night. I just called to say good night."

"Thank you for that. Sweet dreams, Alex."

"You, too."

Then there was silence. Tossing his phone onto the coffee table, he returned to the couch, sitting heavily. He finished his beer but not his pizza. "I'm gonna turn in. Good night," he said as he got up.

Logan watched him cross the room. "Hey," he said, waiting for Goren to turn. "Sorry I set you off."

Goren shook his head. "No apologies needed. I never considered that, and I should have. So thanks for looking out for me. It's something I have to look into." He started to turn, then stopped and looked back. "Thanks for staying, Mike."

"Glad to do it. You need a friend here, and I'm free to stay."

Goren gave him a half smile, then he went to bed.

* * *

><p>Logan woke to a knock at the door. It wasn't a timid, mousy knock, but one that carried authority. A cop's knock. Rising, he went to the door and pulled it open. Sure enough, two cops stood in the hall. "Robert Goren?"<p>

"No. Gimme a minute and I'll get him."

He squinted at the time as he passed the DVD player. Three o'clock in the morning? Were they for real? He knocked on Goren's door and pushed it open. The room was empty. _Well, damn..._

Returning to the front door, he said, "Sorry, boys, he's not home right now. Can I give him a message?"

"Where is he?"

"I'm his friend, not his keeper. He didn't check with me when he went out."

"He works for the FBI?"

"Yeah. What's this about?"

"We'll take that up with him. Sorry to bother you."

They walked off. Logan frowned as he closed the door. "Assholes," he muttered as he went back to the couch.

* * *

><p>Goren freely acknowledged that Eames had always been the more tech savvy one in their partnership. In his current situation, he relied heavily on Decker, so he texted his partner early, arranging to meet him at the office at 7.<p>

He'd had a restless night and left the apartment around 2, being careful not to disturb Logan. He didn't return home, showering and dressing in the locker room at work. Decker arrived shortly after he got coffee and turned on his computer.

"What's up, partner?" Decker said as he sat down.

"I need your computer skills. Is there any way you can check to see if the problems we've been having have been initiated by any of the staff?"

Decker frowned. "What are you thinking?"

"Can you check? I'd rather you not have any preconceived suspicions."

"Yeah, sure. Give me an hour or two."

"Let me know."

Decker hesitated for a moment before he got up and went to the door. He turned in the doorway. "You okay?"

Goren nodded. "Fine. I had a rough night, that's all."

"Your girl go back to New York?"

Goren hesitated, on the verge of snapping at him. He held his tongue, though, and just nodded. Decker set his mouth in a grim line, his eyes gave a brief flash of sympathy, and then he was gone.

* * *

><p>Decker returned ninety minutes later. He leaned against the door frame and watched Goren, who had dozed off. He felt sympathy for his big partner. Entering the small office, he sat down and softly cleared his throat, which was enough to waken Goren.<p>

Sitting forward, Goren rubbed his left eye. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be. I've been in your shoes. When your bed-warmer is missing, nothing is quite right with the rest of your life."

Goren rubbed the back of his neck. "She's more than just a bed-warmer. She's my..." He paused. She was his what? His partner, his lover, his navigator though the stormy waters of his life. "She's my everything," he concluded, his voice barely a whisper.

Decker heard the soft explanation, and he understood. "I had no idea," he said.

"Did you finish checking the computer program?"

"I did. It was good work, but not good enough."

"Someone messed with the program?"

"Just enough to keep things interesting."

"And to prolong my stay?"

"That, too."

"Do you know who did it?"

"I think you do."

"Martino."

Decker nodded. "She didn't do any damage. Just enough of a roadblock to cause us some headaches."

"That's not the point."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I would like to send her packing, but we need her to finish the program. It would take longer to bring in someone new than to finish with the team we now have."

Decker nodded agreement. Goren rubbed his forehead. "She won't like it, but I want her supervised from now on. I want every log in monitored, and if she so much as enters a wrong keystroke, I want to know about it. I'll let you decide who gets to be her watchdog, but I do not want her having free access to the program any more."

"I agree, and I support your decision. Do you want me to talk to Vic?"

Victor Turner was their immediate supervisor. Goren shook his head. "I'll do it."

"I'll take care of her." Decker paused. "Your girl...what's her name?"

Goren hesitated before he said, "Alex."

The younger agent appreciated his answer. "Maybe someday you will trust me enough to introduce me to her."

"Trust...Trust is not the issue. I...I protect her. It-It's unnecessary, I know, and it drive her nuts, but...I can't help it. It's a need..." He trailed off without finishing his thought. _...because I have lost so much._

"Did your friend Mike go home, too?"

"No. He stayed."

With a nod, Decker got to his feet. He had pegged his taciturn partner as a loner, but he had been wrong. The company he needed, however, was not to be found anywhere but in New York. He looked directly at Goren. "I'm glad Mike stayed. If you need anything, just call."

"Thanks."

Decker left the office. He still felt disappointed because Goren was straight, but that didn't prevent him from wanting a friendship with his partner. It was going to take some work, but it would be worth it. He had an unshakable feeling that Goren would be a good friend.

* * *

><p>Victor Turner looked up from his desk at the sound of the knock at his door. His expression brightened. "Goren, come in."<p>

"Sorry to bother you, Vic. I wanted you to know that we found the issue with the setbacks we have been experiencing. I don't think we'll have any more problems."

"Do you want to elaborate?"

"No, sir. Not at this time."

Turner trusted Goren and his judgment. He nodded. "As long as you think the matter has been adequately addressed."

"I will handle it."

"Let me know if you need a hand."

Goren smiled. "I appreciate that, Vic. It's not a problem any more."

Turner studied him for a moment. "How are you doing, Bobby?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"If you need to talk..."

Goren shook his head. "Thank you. I'll remember that."

Turner watched him leave, taking a moment to consider his newest agent. Goren was quiet but an effective officer. He knew that he didn't want to be there, but he was doing his job and doing it well. He wished he could keep him, which he would do in a heartbeat if offered the opportunity. Unfortunately, he doubted that Goren would stay. He belonged in New York. _Ah, well,_ he thought to himself as he returned to his paperwork. _Washington's loss is New York's gain._

* * *

><p>When Goren returned to his office, there were two men waiting for him. "Agent Goren?"<p>

He knew they were cops. "Yes?"

"I am Detective Greg Murphy. This is my partner Carlos Sanchez. We're MPD, Fifth District. We would like to ask you a couple of questions, if you can spare the time."

Goren motioned toward the two chairs in front of his desk as he took his seat behind it. "All right. Ask your questions."

The two detectives exchanged a look before Murphy opened a folder he was holding. He placed a photo on the desk and pushed it toward Goren. "Do you recognize this woman?"

Goren picked up the photo and looked at it. "I, uhm, I recognize her, but I don't know her."

"Why do you recognize her?"

"Does that matter?"

The detectives exchanged a look again. "Would we ask if it didn't, agent?"

Goren leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing the two detectives. "What is this about?" he asked, recognizing an interrogation when he saw one.

Sanchez leaned forward. "Maybe you should come with us, Agent Goren."

"Look, gentlemen, I have no idea why you are here. I recognize this woman from a bar I visited Friday night, but that's all I know. If you need me for anything else, you will have to clear that with Agent Turner or lie in wait for me at the end of the day. In the meantime, I have a lot of work to do, so if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to it."

Neither detective liked being dismissed so casually, and Goren knew it. Eames would chastise him for pushing their buttons, but he was not in the mood for a song and dance with the local cops. He'd done nothing wrong, so he had nothing to worry about...or so he thought.


	8. Trouble Comes Calling

Just before lunch, Turner called Goren to his office. Murphy and Sanchez were there. After Goren closed the office door, Turner said, "I was understand you were introduced to the detectives earlier."

Goren nodded. "We've met."

"They have a few questions for you, Goren. Answer them."

Goren breathed in deeply before he nodded. His manner projected irritability because he was annoyed by the interruption, but Turner offered him no option to refuse. Like Jimmy Deakins, Turner had earned his respect and he would cooperate because Turner asked him to. The detectives, however, misinterpreted his irritation.

Murphy began. "Where were you last Friday night, Agent Goren?"

Goren became immediately defensive. As a cop, he knew what the question meant. He needed an alibi, which he did not have. The big question remained-what did he need an alibi for? He looked at Turner, whose expression told him to cooperate. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "I got off work shortly after six. After that, I went home, and then I went out for a couple of hours."

"Out where?"

Goren's frown deepened. "Why does it matter?"

"We need to ask the questions here, Agent Goren."

After another uncomfortable look at Turner, he answered, "I spent a few hours at a bar called Sal's Tavern, then I walked around for while and went home."

"'Walked around?'" questioned Sanchez. "Where? What did you do?"

"I can't tell you where exactly because I didn't pay attention. Sometimes, when I need to clear my head or think, I just walk. It helps me."

"So what set you off last week?" Murphy asked. "Did you need to think or clear your head?"

"Both."

Turner made an impatient gesture to Murphy, telling him to get on with it or they were done. Murphy took the hint. "What about the woman whose picture we showed you earlier?"

"What about her?"

"You recognized her."

"Recognized, yes. I already told you that. But I don't know her. I bought her a few drinks that night, but that's all. I don't even know her name."

"Is that a regular practice for you?"

"What?"

"Chatting up pretty ladies and then leaving them hanging."

Goren frowned. They knew a lot more than they were letting on, and they were baiting him. His irritation turned to anger, which he struggled to hide from them. Murphy's wording made him seem like a real asshole, when that was not the case at all. "What difference does it make how I spend my evenings or who I spend them with?"

"We don't care about every evening. Just that one."

Goren looked at Turner again. The SAIC was also frowning. "Exactly what is this about, gentlemen?" he demanded, tired of playing word games.

Murphy pulled out another photo and laid it in front of Turner, who picked it up. Goren saw surprise on his boss's face. Turner held out the picture to Goren, who took it. When he saw what it was, he was unable to conceal his shock. It was a crime scene photo and the woman he'd spent part of Friday night with, the one he'd turned down when she wanted to take him back to her place, was front and center. She was the victim. _Dear God..._

He closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he looked at the two detectives. Homicide detectives. Everything now made sense. They were investigating her death, and, for some reason, he was a suspect. "What happened to her?"

"Why don't you tell us?" Sanchez challenged.

"I'm not changing my story, gentlemen," he said. "What I told you is what happened. I left her at the bar. That was the last I saw of her. She was drunk, but very much alive."

"What time was that?"

"I don't know. Maybe eleven o'clock."

Murphy recovered the photo and slipped it back into his folder. When he spoke, his tone and his manner carried the accusation he had not yet put into words. "Two hours later, she was raped and strangled. Someone raped and murdered this beautiful woman, and it's our job to find him."

"I know your job, detective. I do the same job," Goren answered. "I bear the same responsibility. But you're barking up the wrong tree. I did not kill her."

"How long have you been in Washington?"

"About two months."

Murphy exchanged a look with his partner, then turned his attention back to Goren. "We need you to come with us, Agent Goren."

"Why?"

"For further questioning."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Not yet. But if you didn't kill her, as you claim, what do you have to worry about?"

Goren was in a corner. If he didn't go with them, he would seem guilty and they would arrest him. If he did go with them, he had a feeling the end result would be the same. He looked at Turner, who was livid. "If you're telling the truth," Turner said to him. "I know someone who can help."

"I didn't kill anyone," Goren insisted. "That's the truth."

Turner believed him. Standing, he placed a hand on Goren's shoulder, a fatherly gesture that Goren allowed. "Go with them," he said. "I'll get your partner and we'll see you at the station."

Goren didn't like it, but he saw no alternative. "Yes, sir."

He left the office with the two detectives. Turner tossed a couple of files in his briefcase, looking up when Decker knocked on his door. "What the hell is going on, Vic? Where is Goren going with the local dicks?"

"MPD has a bug up their butt about a murder victim Goren was seen with last week."

"Seriously? They think he killed someone?"

"Apparently they suspect him. I don't know what they have for evidence, but they seem certain."

"Of course they do. They're always certain."

"I'm heading over to the 5th district now. Want to tag along?"

"He's my partner. Of course I do."

His answer didn't surprise Turner. "Let's roll, then."

As they headed for the elevators, Decker pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Finding Goren's name, he called his partner's home number, hoping his friend Mike was there.

Logan answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Mike, this is Alan Decker, Goren's partner."

"He's not here," Logan replied.

"I know. You are the one I was looking for. He's gotten himself into some trouble. Can you meet us at the MPD 5th district station?"

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"They seem to think he killed someone."

A moment of shocked silence followed his explanation. Finally, Logan said, "Is this some kind of bad joke?"

"I don't know you well enough to joke like that, Mike."

Another pause, then Logan said, "I'm on my way."

"See you there."

Decker stepped into the elevator with Turner.

* * *

><p>Eames closed the file folder in front of her and looked across her desk at the empty chair her partner normally occupied. She had grown to resent having a temporary partner and she wanted Goren back. He was the one who should be sitting across from her, not the man who had been sitting there for the past two months. Everything about him irritated her, but more than anything she wanted him to sit at another desk.<p>

The phone interrupted her musing. She picked it up. "Eames."

"You need to get down here, Alex."

Her heart leaped into her throat. She swallowed hard. "What's wrong, Mike?"

"Bobby's in trouble. Apparently the locals suspect that he killed someone."

"What? If this is a joke, Logan, it's in poor taste."

"That was my reaction, too. Unfortunately, I'm serious as a heart attack."

"Who do they think he killed?"

"I don't have any details. I'm on my way to the station now. He may knock the crap out of me for calling you, but I think you need to be here."

"Thanks, Mike. I'm on the way."

She dropped the receiver in its cradle, hesitated for just a moment, then hurried to the captain's office.


	9. Convergence

Ross pulled some strings and within the hour, he and Eames were on an hour-long flight to the Capitol. Once there, he rented a car and they arrived at the 5th district station house a little more than two-and-a-half hours after Logan had called Eames.

They were directed to the office of Quentin Gerrold, the district captain, and Ross introduced himself and Eames. Ross had done this dance before, and he knew enough to make nice with the locals. He explained that Goren was his detective, on loan to the FBI for a profiling project, and he diplomatically demanded to know why he was being held.

"We brought him in for questioning in connection with the murder of a woman he was seen with the night she died."

"Do you have any evidence?"

"Enough to bring him in."

"Such as?"

Gerrold smiled. "You know that's something I can't divulge, Captain Ross."

So, he wanted to play hard ball. Ross knew that game, too. "I brought his partner with me. Do you mind if we watch the interrogation?"

"Not at all. My detectives should be about ready."

"How long has he been here?"

"A couple of hours. He's been cooling off in one of our interrogation rooms."

"Was he difficult?"

"No, not difficult, but definitely not happy to be here."

"Who ever is?"

With a smile and a nod, Gerrold led them out of his office to the observation room that overlooked the interrogation room Goren had been shut in, alone, for nearly three hours. Logan was there with Turner and Decker; Murphy and Sanchez conferred with each other in hushed tones on the other side of the room.

Ross shook Logan's hand and said hello. After introducing Ross to Turner and Decker, Logan moved over to stand by Eames, whose attention was riveted to Goren. When Logan appeared beside her, she slid closer to him and he put his arm around her. Neither of them spoke, but no words were necessary.

Decker came over to join them as Turner talked to Ross. Quietly, Logan introduced them. "This is Bobby's FBI partner, Alan Decker. Alan, this is Alex Eames, his partner back home."

Decker smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

She studied him for a minute. "Isn't it your job to keep him out of trouble?"

Decker laughed. "I do my best, but I can't be with him all the time."

She nodded. "I know the feeling."

Logan watched Ross step out of the room with Gerrold and Turner, then he jerked his head at the two detectives who stood on the other side of the room, raising his voice so they would hear him. "Those two goons over there are the ones who want to play games instead of looking for the real killer."

Murphy stepped toward him, but Sanchez grabbed his arm. Gerrold would have a cow if they started a fight right there. Logan glared at them defiantly until Eames touched his arm. "Mike, don't," she murmured to him.

He made a noise and turned his attention back to her. "Yeah, they're not worth it," he said in mock agreement.

She turned her attention back to Goren and her heart did a small flip. He didn't deserve to be in there on the other side of the table. She looked at Logan, then at Decker before looking back in at her partner. "What is his connection to the victim?" she asked.

"He was seen talking with her at a bar the night she died. Apparently, he's the last one they can find who was seen with her," Decker answered.

Logan watched closely for her reaction, but she was careful to hide it well. Decker was also watching her. He'd connected the dots and was assuming that Goren's partner, Alex Eames, was the same Alex who had visited last weekend, the same Alex with whom he was in a relationship. He wondered how they managed that, but he certainly wasn't going to out the relationship, presuming he was right with his assumptions.

Eames set her jaw and looked at Decker. "Then they're wrong. There's another person they are missing." She looked at Murphy and Sanchez. "They're missing whoever killed her. _That_ was the last person who saw her alive."

"Bring us a better suspect, and we'll leave your boyfriend alone," Murphy retorted.

"He's my partner," Eames replied, her tone as condescending as she could make it.

Logan moved closer to her in a gesture of solidarity as Sanchez moved off the wall to stand beside his partner. They were facing off as Ross, Turner and Gerrold returned to the room. Ross took in the situation in an instant and addressed Eames and Logan. "Stand down, both of you."

"That goes for you two as well," Gerrold told his detectives.

Murphy glared at the out-of-town officers. "He's a murderer. He doesn't deserve your loyalty."

"If you knew him," Eames snapped. "You would never say that."

Beside her, Logan growled, "You're gonna eat those words, Capitol Boy."

"Says who, New York?"

"All right, that's enough," Gerrold ordered. "Don't you two have a job to do?"

Murphy and Sanchez stormed from the room, more determined than before to prove Goren's guilt.

* * *

><p>Goren sat silently in the interrogation room, unaware of the storm brewing on the other side of the one-way glass. He studied his hands as he tried to distract himself. By his estimation, he'd been sitting there for a couple of hours, maybe a little longer. That was a tactic he knew well, leaving a suspect alone in an empty room to think about what he had done. Of course, in his case, he had not done what they wanted him to think about, but his busy mind was still occupied by dark thoughts. He couldn't get the image of the crime scene photo out of his mind. He could not reconcile the image of the victim with his memories of the laughing, flirty woman he'd spent the evening with almost a week ago. Anyone who might have observed them that night—although he was at a loss to understand why anyone would be interested—would not have had much of a stretch in imagining they had hooked up after leaving the bar. He wondered if she stayed at the bar and who she would have picked up after he left her. He felt bad about leaving her, especially now. What the hell had happened to the gentleman his mother had raised? He should have walked her home, at least. But then...then she could have coaxed him inside and he'd be in an entirely different world of trouble. No, he'd done the right thing. He'd stayed faithful and proved himself a better man than William Goren. But still...what would Eames think?<p>

His roaming thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the door opened and Murphy strolled in, followed by Sanchez. He wondered which one was going to play the good cop and try to befriend him, to catch him off guard in the hope he would confess, and which one would play the bad cop and try to bully and intimidate him. He knew the game well and would not fall prey to either tactic. Of course, he had nothing to confess, which meant this was going to be a _long_ interrogation. Murphy and Sanchez were out for blood-his blood.

Murphy sat across from him and Sanchez stood against the wall by the one-way glass, watching. That was something else he and Eames often did. One partner went in for the attack while the other watched for weakness. Goren remained silent, returning their scrutiny.

Murphy spoke first. "Tell us again, Agent Goren: where were you Friday night into Saturday morning, between midnight and four a.m.?"

They were gunning for him with all barrels, and he knew they would ask him repeatedly what he had done Friday night, hoping to find the inconsistencies that would tell them he was lying. There would be no inconsistencies, though, because he was telling them the truth. With some suspects, prolonged interrogations and leading statements could confuse them into a false confession that would hold up in court. Although it was a tactic he never stooped to using, he had seen it done many times. He preferred to elicit confessions from the guilty, not beat or intimidate a confession from the innocent just because they were weak. He would rather file away a case as unsolved than get a false confession from an innocent person and send someone to jail who did not belong there. Unfortunately, all cops were not that ethical and he had to play the game their way. He spoke slowly, with exaggerated patience, as though they were slow to understand. "I already told you—I left the bar, walked around for a while and then went home. I drank a few more beers and fell asleep watching television."

Murphy leaned forward in his chair. "You were identified by the bartender at Sal's, Goren. He said you were getting cozy with Miss Morton. Are you trying to tell us that a beautiful woman like that is willing to hook up with you and you turn her down?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

From his place beside the one-way glass, Sanchez asked, "Are you gay, agent?"

"What?" Goren replied as he looked at him, surprised by the question. "No. Why?"

"That would explain why you turned down such a hot lady."

"That isn't the only reason," Goren responded.

"What other reason could you have for turning down a real looker who obviously wanted to get into your pants?"

"I have my reasons."

"Which are?" Murphy pressed.

"Which are mine. All you have to know is I left the bar without her."

"And then what?"

"And then I walked around for a little while and went home. I had a couple more drinks and I fell asleep on the couch."

"Watching TV...What was on?" Sanchez asked.

"The news."

"What time was it?"

"I don't know. I didn't look at the time. But you can check my phone records. I talked with my friend Mike Logan just before I went home."

"So you called your buddy to tell him what you did?"

Goren sighed. "No. He called me. I told him I was just walking. He said he was on his way down for the weekend, so I went home."

Murphy leaned back in his chair and rubbed his balding head. "You see, Goren, here's our problem. We have a dead woman and you were the last person seen with her. You claim that you were either out walking alone or at home alone at the time of the murder. That gives you no alibi. What are we supposed to think?"

"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong."

"Prove it, amigo," said Sanchez. "That's all you gotta do and you can be on your way."

Behind the one way glass, Eames watched her partner. "Has he asked for a lawyer yet?"

"Not yet," Gerrold answered. "But he's not under arrest yet. At the moment he's just a person of interest."

Ross looked at his counterpart. "Level with me, captain. Are you going to arrest him?"

Gerrold hesitated before nodding. "Yes. He was the last person seen with the victim and he has no alibi. We don't have a better suspect, and I have the mayor and the brass breathing down my neck to make a break in the case. Tell me what you would do."

Ross waved a hand. "Are you telling me there's an uproar over this one murder only six days out?"

Gerrold hesitated again before answering, "It's not just this one murder. We believe that Ms. Morton is the fifth victim of the same killer. That's why I'm getting pressure."

"_Five_ victims?" Ross said, incredulous. "Captain, I can't see Goren taking _one_ life. Five is unthinkable."

Decker looked at Turner, who was also surprised by the information. There was no doubt now that Turner would have to ask for help in proving Goren's innocence. The SAIC nodded and Decker spoke up. "The Bureau sometimes works with a local agency that uses applied psychology to determine if someone is being truthful. They've been a big help on several cases for us. Captain Turner already spoke with Dr. Cal Lightman, and he's willing to help us out on this." He turned to Eames and added, "Let them get a read on him and then we can find him the right defense attorney."

Turner said to Ross, "Cal Lightman is supposed to be the world's leading deception detection expert. Let's see what his interpretation is. I trust Dr. Lightman."

"And if he says Goren's lying?" Gerrold asked.

"I'll abide by their determination," Turner replied. He was putting all his eggs, and Goren's, in Cal Lightman's basket.

Gerrold studied the agent-in-charge warily. "Why are you sticking your neck out for this guy, Turner? Are you aware that he's the son of Mark Ford Brady?"

The room went very still. The information about Brady surprised both Turner and Decker. Although Logan, Eames and Ross knew, they were not aware that the information about Goren's paternity was public knowledge. Eames grasped Logan's hand tightly and he squeezed back. "How did you know that?" Ross asked, suspicious.

"We've done our homework on this guy, Captain Ross. When he popped up on our radar, we began to dig. He's anything but squeaky clean."

Decker spoke up, his voice tinged with rage. "That doesn't make him a killer, Captain Gerrold. I just can't wrap my brain around this guy as a serial killer. He doesn't fit the profile. I don't care who his father was."

"Profiles can be wrong."

"And evidence can be misinterpreted, especially when you're looking at it with your mind already made up about what you want it to say."

Gerrold's eyes narrowed. "Or what you _don't_ want it to say, agent."

"So let Lightman decide," Turner insisted.

"Fine. We'll let his group have a go at him, but I want Lightman to know this is a rogue cop gone bad."

"That's a lie!" Eames snapped, at the end of her patience. She had no tolerance for anyone bad-mouthing her partner—her lover—and she'd had enough. Logan put his arm around her waist to keep her from going after Gerrold.

Ross lightly touched her arm, addressing Gerrold. "Is that how you play the game here?" he asked. "You taint your experts before they can render an opinion? Is your evidence that weak, if you have any evidence at all?"

Turner stepped in to mediate. "All Lightman knows is that I have an agent in some trouble for something he may or may not have done. That's all he will know until he requests information to help him with his case, not yours, Captain Gerrold. I don't know about you, but I don't want the wrong man sent to prison."

Decker watched the captains battle it out as he moved to stand by Logan and Eames. Gerrold and his men were out for blood, pressured on all fronts to solve five brutal murders. If they could pin the blame on Goren, they certainly would, claiming the case was solved...until the next body turned up. And Decker knew for certain it would turn up because the detectives had stopped looking for the actual killer as they focused on the wrong man. Some poor young woman was going to pay for their mistake with her life, unless they found the real killer soon. But in order to find someone, they had to be looking...

Decker was determined to clear his partner so they could find the right guy before another woman lost her life...and he trusted Cal Lightman to help.


	10. Rumination

Eames stood by the one-way glass, watching her partner sitting alone in the next room. After it was agreed upon by the parties in charge to consult with Cal Lightman, they watched Murphy and Sanchez interrogate Goren for another half hour. They were spinning their wheels, getting nowhere fast, so Gerrold pulled them out. Frustrated, they'd gone to their desks to work on reports while Turner and Ross went with Gerrold to review whatever evidence Gerrold felt at liberty to share with them.

After turning down an invitation to join Logan and Decker on a food run, Eames remained by the window overlooking the next room, and now she was alone. She watched Goren, placing her hand flat against the glass, but her mind was lost in the past. Logan was right about one thing: if their relationship was anything, it was passionate. They had come together explosively which set their world ablaze. As passion became the defining element of their relationship, working together became difficult. For the better part of two months, they struggled to find their way with each other in every situation except the one that led to the bedroom.

Knowing what he was like in private, she found it difficult to be close to him and not touch him. Sometimes, she gave in to temptation and brushed her hand or her arm against his. The results were electrifying, and they took lunch early. Once, he talked her into a rendezvous in the janitorial closet on the tenth floor, claiming it was the largest one in the building, next to the one on the twelfth floor, but that one was too close to the Chief of D's office. When she challenged him about how he knew that, he gave her a roguish smile and told her he liked to know his options.

He was very good at hiding his emotions, much better than she was, but sometimes they got the better of him. Those times were always amusing for her, and she let him know it. In response, he gave her a smile that melted her insides, and they never quite made it home after work. He was a master at finding clandestine rendezvous points, another of his many skills that she admired.

Fortunately, Ross read their tension as a continuation of the falling out they had suffered following Goren's undercover assignment to bring down John Testarossa. He had no idea they had resolved that issue long ago and moved on to brand-new, entirely unrelated issues. As for the tension at work, it had finally dissipated, making their private encounters much more intense and driven.

Then her mind stumbled over a memory, one that always brought with it powerful mixed emotions that she could never sort through. She did not know how to approach Goren with her confusion, so she just avoided the topic as much as she possibly could. Three and a half months into the relationship, he did something he could never undo, spoke words he could never take back, never deny. He confessed that he loved her. He wasn't just in love with her, although that was clearly evident, but he actually loved her. His confession had shocked her, but she had not replied in kind. Her own feelings for him, while passionate, were unclear. Tossing love into the mix muddied them even more. She could not differentiate her passion from her affection. She could no longer identify love. She wasn't even sure she could _feel_ love any more. Losing Joe had utterly destroyed her, and she had never truly recovered. The loss had changed her into a different person. One day she had been happily married and planning a family. Three days later he was gone, taking with him everything she used to be. She never got that back.

In her mind, she could see Goren's open expression—partly hidden in shadow, partly illuminated by the streetlight outside the window. She knew how difficult it was for him to put it all out there like that. When the moment passed, she had no trouble reading that he was afraid he'd made a mistake, not in feeling as he did, but in telling her about it. Although she could not find the words then to respond to him in kind, she had sought to reassure him physically and thus let him know she took no offense to his confession. She took his body on a wonderful ride, not just once, but three times. Physically spent, he had slept deeply after that while she, though sated, remained awake, pondering the turn they had taken with each other, all thanks to three small words he had whispered to her under the cover of darkness: _I love you_.

It was something they had not yet discussed, although more than two months had passed since that night. Once it was out there, he knew he couldn't take it back, and he never tried. Instead, he said it again...and again. He said it often, struggling to become comfortable with verbalizing the words and with her knowing how he felt. She knew he was sincere, that he meant those words in a way he never had before. His battered heart had been so abused by those who were supposed to love him that he was reluctant to invest it again, but he trusted her, and what did she do? The same thing everyone else had done. She inflicted more bruises, more pain, and she hated herself for it, hated that she could not find the words he wanted to hear. If she said them without the emotion to back them up, he would know. He always knew. So she waited, but the feeling never came, and neither did the words. The emotion was never there. All that existed for her, ever since Joe died, was a void, and she had no idea how to fill it. She cared for him deeply, and her feelings were strong, but she did not know what love was any more.

She continued to watch him, and her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. She fought them. _Not here, not now._ She could not show weakness to those around her. She could not let them see her pain or the vulnerability that stemmed from whatever it was she did feel for Goren. He was her partner, her friend, her lover. He was strong enough to invest his heart in her and then let her know it. In the face of his unexpected courage in dealing with his emotions, she was a coward because she could not, or would not, do the same.

On the other side of the glass, he got up from the chair, restless and agitated, and paced, rubbing the back of his neck. His tie was long gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows. He paced for a few minutes while she watched. Then, he looked at the glass, and she pulled back. His expression was one of deep pain and regret, a familiar enough expression, but she wondered what could have caused such a strong reaction. She knew he hadn't killed anyone. Not this strong, gentle man who caught spiders and put them outside so there would be fewer mosquitoes to bother her. Not this big, tough cop who laid on the floor to play with her nephew so the little boy would have full access to him without having to look up so far or stretch so high to try to reach him. Not this damaged, tortured soul who still found it in himself to love her. For him to be accused of rape and murder was insanity. Regardless of who his biological father was, Goren did not have it in him to do that to any woman. She would bet her life on that. She leaned her head against the glass and laid her hand on it again. "Oh, Bobby..." she whispered.

He moved forward and placed his forehead against the glass, right where she was standing. His lips moved, and she could not hear him, but she read what his lips were saying, and she knew the words were directed toward her, even though he did not know she was there. _I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>Turner left Gerrold's office out of frustration. Ross had a great deal more patience for the crap the district captain was dishing out than he did. Goren was being railroaded but he had no proof—just like Gerrold had no real proof of his guilt. All he had was a witness who saw Goren talking to the victim hours before she was killed, and that was not proof. If this thing went to trial, Goren's life would hang on the ability of twelve strangers to make a decision with no evidence to review and no eyewitness testimony. There was no forensic evidence found at the scene. He argued that MPD had no grounds for arrest, but Gerrold disagreed. Danny Ross was the only reason he and Gerrold had not come to blows with each other, and Turner had angrily left the office. He took a couple of minutes to calm down before he returned to the observation room, pausing in the doorway to watch the partners interact without knowing it. "You're deeply attached to him," he commented.<p>

She pulled away from the window, struggling to hide her emotions when she turned to face him. She swallowed the lump in her throat before answering, "We've been partners for a long time."

"That makes sense," he said, suspecting there was more to it, but respecting her enough not to push. He looked through the glass at Goren, who had resumed his pacing. "He's a good man, a hard worker, and smart as hell. I wish I could get him to join my team, but he won't. His home, and his heart, are in New York."

She sighed softly. "He loves being a cop. It's what he does best. He can get into their heads and understand their motives. I've never known a cop so good at that."

"That's why he would be such a good fit for my team. He's a born profiler, and he understands how the criminal mind works. I'm surprised no one noticed before now. With proper mentoring..."

"Someone noticed," she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone. "Declan Gage noticed, and he mentored him."

Turner looked surprised. "Gage? Before he had his meltdown?"

It was a valid question; Ross had asked it. Gage had been brilliant before his breakdown turned him into a crackpot. Eventually, he had succumbed to dementia, and Goren had been the obsession of his final decline. Every time she thought about it, she felt sick. "Before and after." She paused, feeling a strong sense of _deja vu_. "It was because of Gage that he became a cop and not a criminal. That is the only gratitude I feel toward Gage. Goren is a lot more forgiving than I am."

Turner was intrigued. "You've met Declan Gage?"

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," she replied. "His obsession with serial killers turned his daughter into one." She looked through the glass, focusing on Goren as she told Turner what had happened to Jo Gage. "She was his assistant from a young age, exposed to gruesome crime scene photos and detailed MOs of serial killers. When he met Goren, he saw the potential in him, the natural ability, the genius-level intellect. Gage knew what he could become with the proper motivation. Goren had a difficult childhood, one that was a proven breeding ground for criminals. When Gage met him, he still could have gone either way. He became a father figure to Goren, and he saved him. In Gage, Goren had the guiding hand he'd lacked as a child, and that set him on the path to becoming the brilliant profiler he is. But Goren's presence intensified Gage's neglect of his daughter. He was hardly a nurturing parent to begin with, and once he had Goren to mentor, Jo became little more than background noise to him. In Goren, he had the son he'd always wanted, which reinforced in her the feeling that she wasn't good enough, that she always let him down. She decided that the only way she would ever get his attention would be to become one of his case studies. She killed two women using the Sebastian MO because she knew it would get his attention. Then she kidnapped me, and she tortured and killed a third woman...while I listened. I would have been her next victim."

"What a horrible experience," Turner said as he moved to her side. "Have you recovered?"

"I'm working on it. I still have nightmares, but...I can deal with them now."

_Now that I have him,_ she added in her mind. Turner looked into the interrogation room. "Do you think Gage's guidance set him firmly on the path of a profiler?"

"Absolutely. He lives on the moral high road. I've never known a man like him, Agent Turner. There's so much more to him than what you see, so much that most people never take the time to discover."

Turner studied her with the eye of an experienced profiler, and his voice was gentle when he spoke. "How long did it take you to discover his true nature?"

"Longer than it should have. I'm afraid I let him down too many times."

"Would he agree with that?"

"Of course not. In his mind, he was the one who failed me. He's very good at self-recrimination, even when it's not his fault. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"But he's not taking the blame for this."

"Because he had nothing to do with it. He didn't kill anyone."

"I believe that."

She watched Goren return to his chair and bury his head in his arms. He broke her heart. "Is there any way I can see him?"

He patted her shoulder. "I'll see what I can arrange."

He left the room and she turned back to the glass, wishing she were at liberty to greet him the way she wanted to, but that was impossible. She was standing on the brink of an endless chasm that embodied her greatest fear. She was on the verge of losing him, and she did not want to face that. She just wanted to take him home and make this all disappear, to lose herself in him and make the world go away. He'd spent years trying to protect her. Now all she wanted was to protect him from the spectre of false accusation. Her eyes grew moist again as she read despair in every angle of his body. Touching the glass once more, she whispered his name.

She heard someone enter the room behind her and she pulled herself together once again before turning to face him. Ross looked back at her from near the door. "Agent Turner is trying to talk Gerrold into letting you in to see your partner. Murphy is against it because he wants to keep Goren isolated."

Anger pushed her tears away and gave her a good excuse for the tremor in her voice. "Murphy can go to hell."

"Fortunately, it's not up to him." He paused. "Are you all right, Eames?"

His question, sincere and gently asked, chased away her anger and returned her emotions to their previous unsettled state. "I hate seeing him in there, captain. He doesn't deserve this."

"I know. Unfortunately, our assurances are not proof of his innocence."

"What do they have on him?"

"From what I can tell, not much. But it's enough to get a search warrant for his apartment and his car."

Her anger was back. "What?" She knew how much he valued his privacy, and this violation was unforgivable. "What are they looking for?"

"Condoms, for one. So they can test the spermicide for a match to the ones used in the rapes. Apparently, the same condoms were used in each of five recent rapes they believe were committed by the same man. That's one reason why they are looking at him for the five murders instead of just the one."

She felt herself shake with rage. "Rape is such a violent crime. It's driven by power and hate. He's not a violent man and he's definitely not a rapist. He has no need to assert power over anyone."

"Goren and I may have had our differences, but I have never seen the potential for rape and murder in him."

"Not even when his brother was killed and _you_ found out Brady was his father?"

Ross sighed. "I still have a job to do, Eames. You saw the evidence. Just because I had to follow where it led doesn't mean I believed it. That's why I left it to you to find out what was really going on, because I knew you would. I knew you would never let your partner hang, so that left me free to play devil's advocate."

"You have a lot of faith in me."

"I have a lot of faith in _both_ of you."

She looked at the floor so she wouldn't have to look at him. "And how far will you go now, captain? What will you do for him in this situation?"

"I will go as far as I have to go and I will do whatever I have to do. They are going to serve the warrant, so when Logan gets back, he and I will go to Goren's place and keep an eye on them. We'll do the best we can to keep them to the letter of the warrant." He paused. "What will they find, Eames?"

"Nothing they are looking for."

"Do you know where he keeps his condoms?"

She paused. They'd used condoms when they first started sleeping together, but once she was well-established on birth control and they had taken the extra step of getting tested to reassure each other they were clean—which was something they did without either of them insisting on it—they discovered a whole new world of pleasure without them. She was certain he didn't have any condoms, but that was not something she could share with Ross. "There's no reason for me to know that, but if he's like most men, they'd be in the drawer of his bedside table. He's a careful man, so he would have them close at hand, just in case."

Ross nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. "Can I ask you something, Eames?"

Once more under control, she looked up at him. "Go ahead."

"Can you tell me why Goren refused her advances? I saw her picture. She was a beautiful woman. Sexy, successful, a great catch. Why would he say no?"

She wondered the same thing, though for very different reasons. "Are you asking me to get into my partner's head, captain? I don't know why he would turn her down, but he says he did and I believe him."

Ross nodded. "So do I. I read the bartender's statement. He admits that Goren left alone and it was a good half hour or more before she left. He claims he thought he saw her talking with someone outside the bar, and it could have been Goren, but he got called to serve someone and by the time he'd done that, she was gone, so he isn't completely certain who she left with, if anyone."

"So whoever she was talking to may have been the person who killed her."

"Possibly, but there is enough question about that person's identity for them to assume it was Goren."

"Why would he hang around outside the bar for a half hour or more?"

"He was waiting for her?"

She shook her head. "If she was interested in him and he wanted to take it someplace else, he would have just left with her. He wouldn't lurk around in a nearby alley waiting for her. He said he left and went for a walk. He does that when he's troubled or he needs to think."

"Why would he be troubled?"

"Goren is always troubled. Maybe it was his project; they've had some setbacks. He doesn't like being away from home. It could be anything."

"He misses you?"

She conceded that much with a nod. There was nothing unusual about that. "He misses Logan, too. He misses New York, his job. He hasn't been home to visit his mother's grave or his brother's. He's a complicated man."

"And a devoted one. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

For a moment, she wondered if Turner had said something to him about the talk they'd had, but she realized she was being paranoid. He had to be asking about the search warrant, and it was not unreasonable that he would assume she had been to his place. After all, he knew she spent the last weekend, and a little more, in Washington with him. "Just don't let them break anything. He doesn't have a lot of possessions, so the few he does have are important to him. And remember, captain, he's not trying to hide anything. He didn't do anything wrong."

"I know. We'll make sure they behave."

She had to trust him to keep his word, which was easy to do, knowing Logan would be there, too. If anyone, besides her, had Goren's best interests at heart, it was Logan. Logan would make certain they behaved.

* * *

><p>When Logan and Decker returned, they set down the bags of Chinese takeout and Logan barely had time to meet Eames' eyes before he had to take off with Ross. Decker also insisted on going along, which Eames appreciated. She was grateful Goren had been given an FBI partner who allowed himself to care about him.<p>

About fifteen minutes later, Turner and Gerrold entered the room. Turner said, "Fix a plate for yourself and your partner, detective. Once the warrant has been executed, chances are he will be formerly arrested and charged, but he'll spend the night here in lockup. Lightman and his partner will be here first thing in the morning to talk to him, and we'll go from there."

She'd fostered no hope of going home with him that night. She figured he would either be arrested or held in interrogation all night. "So they'll arrest him, even if the search of his place yields nothing?"

"That's their plan."

He helped her dish out two plates, and she grabbed a fork and a set of chopsticks. She never had a burning desire to struggle with her food learning to eat with chopsticks, but Goren was very comfortable with them. The last time they'd had Chinese, he started to teach her how to use them. Thinking it would be easiest to start with large pieces, he showed her how to hold the chopsticks properly in her right hand. Her first few tries had launched pieces of broccoli, cauliflower and carrot to various places around the room. They were soon joined by two water chestnuts and three pods of snap peas. Not wanting his living room decorated in modern Chinese stir fry, he'd switched to noodles. When she twirled the noodles around the chopsticks like spaghetti around a fork and declared she was getting the hang of it, he looked at her and they both dissolved into laughter, which progressed to kissing, which led to sex in the middle of the living room floor. Their food was cold by the time they got around to eating it, but neither of them cared. She decided that eating with sticks was just never going to be a skill in her repertoire, although he seemed determined to change both her attitude and her skill set. She was happy to let him try. He was infinitely patient as a teacher, and her heart did a small flip as she imagined him teaching college...high school...middle school...grade school. Her mental image of him sitting on the floor, reading to a class of five-year-olds wasn't so far-fetched; she had seen him do just that with an assortment of young nieces and nephews in her sister's living room. She would never want him to trade his badge and gun for a planbook and chalk, but that didn't stop her mind from placing him in that career field. He was so good with children.

"Detective Eames?"

Startled from her reverie, she gave Turner a blank look for a moment before she recovered. "I'm sorry. My mind wandered for a moment."

"I trust it didn't wander very far."

She studied his face. What was she doing, thinking she could hide anything so powerful from an experienced FBI profiler? She felt a moment of panic; he saw that, too. "Relax," he said quietly as he handed her the two plates. "Your secret is safe with me."

She met his eyes, feeling a rush of gratitude. He grabbed two sodas and motioned toward the door, quietly cautioning, "Remember, nothing is private."

She nodded, well aware of the camera that would be on and running while she interacted with her partner. She appreciated his warning, though. "Thank you, Agent Turner."

"Vic. You can call me Vic," he insisted.

She gave him a genuine smile of gratitude. He motioned for her to lead the way to the next room and he followed.


	11. Dining Under Scrutiny

**A/N: In reply to THW's review, to which I could not respond: Goren has not been arrested yet. He is being detained for questioning as a person of interest in a case. Any speculation about what evidence the police have or do not have is just that, speculation. None of the cops invested in Goren's innocence know for certain around what evidence the MPD is building its case. Every cop will do anything he can to strengthen his case, and that is what these cops are doing. No one has broken the law or violated Goren's rights. They do not have to disclose any evidence to anyone but the defense until trial, and at the moment there is no defense. Bobby has not retained an attorney because he has not been arrested. Obviously, they have enough probable cause for a search warrant and enough evidence to bring Goren in for questioning, but only the investigating officers and their captain know what evidence they may have that points to Goren.**

* * *

><p>Goren sat upright and looked toward the door when it opened. When Turner entered the room, he was relieved to finally see a friendly face, but he did not expect Eames to come in behind him. Turner set the sodas on the table as Goren stood up, unable to ignore the manners his mother had instilled in him. <em>Always stand when a lady enters the room.<em> More than just any lady, Eames was _his_ lady. He forced his gaze back to Turner, who gave him a brief nod of encouragement, then left.

His eyes shifted back to Eames, who stood near the door, holding the two plates of food as they looked at each other. Finally, she said, "I brought you something to eat."

He really wasn't hungry, and he felt deeply mixed emotions about seeing her under his current circumstances, but he grabbed another chair and positioned it beside his. She set the plates on the table, placing the fork beside hers and the chopsticks beside his.

She took the chair on the right, where she usually sat to eat since he was left-handed and she was right-handed. Usually when they ate alone or with Logan, he rested his hand in her lap, and he itched to do that now, but camera presence and the one-way glass across from them quelled that urge, leaving him restless. Instead, he flexed his right hand in and out of a fist as he poked at his food, trying to think of something to say. He loved her with all his heart, but he hated that she was there, even if she was there for him. He had no idea how to tell her that or even if he should.

Distracted by his restlessness, Eames plopped her hand on top of his and closed it over his fingers. "Stop. Eat your dinner."

He shifted his hand so that he squeezed hers and he knew he had to be satisfied with that. With reluctance, he released her hand. Finally, he asked the question that he was burning to ask. "Why are you here?"

"Disappointed?"

"No, not at all. Curious." He indicated the room with his chopsticks. "This is not my finest hour."

"I've seen you in worse circumstances."

That was true. When he woke up in the hospital after his near-fatal ordeal at Tate's, she had been there. "That doesn't answer my question. You should still be in New York."

She tried not to feel hurt by his statement. "Do you want me to go back to New York?"

He did and he didn't, but his desire for her won out over the practicality of his predicament and his unwillingness for her to be involved with his situation, even peripherally. "I, uh...no," he answered, trying to swallow the guilt he felt for being selfish.

He stared at his plate, struggling with conflicting emotions. He'd take whatever time with her he could get, but he had a bad feeling about what was happening to him. He tried hard to do right by her, but the week before he had nearly strayed. In a moment of weakness, spurred by her rejection of him, he'd almost lost everything. He might yet lose it all, even though he had ultimately done the right thing. He had remained faithful. He could have gone home with Cassie Morton; maybe he should have, considering what had happened to her. He'd liked her, and under other circumstances, he would have accepted her offer, but whatever she could have done for him, it would not compensate for losing Eames. And he would have lost her if he'd gone home with Cassie. Eames was really not the forgiving type.

As difficult as it was for her to forgive, he wondered if it wasn't more difficult for her to love. Losing Joe had destroyed her world and it took nearly a decade for her to finally move on, if you could call it that. He was afraid that her ability to love a man died with Joe Dutton. He'd told her he loved her plenty of times—and he did love her very much—but the only time she said it back, he was certain she wasn't sincere. He did not doubt that she cared about him, and she certainly enjoyed the physical side of their relationship as much as he did, but love? He had real doubts about that, and he didn't know how to resolve them. He could think of no good way to bring the subject up to her. He was afraid that directly questioning her about it would end badly for him. He'd spent his life alone, and he was happy with Eames. He didn't want to ruin that happiness if he could help it. So he accepted what she could give and never asked for more. He'd invested everything in his relationship with her, and as long as she would have him, he was content to be with her. When she got tired of him, she would move on, and he would be forced to as well, but it would not be easy. He wasn't willing to lose her, but he would not ask her to stay in a relationship she did not want. He gave her all he had to give, but at the same time, he was preparing himself for the inevitable. He never expected her to stay forever. He knew she wouldn't; no one ever would. But he would always love her.

"Okay, then," she said. "Be glad I'm here."

"I am glad," he replied. "But...how did you know?"

"Mike called me, and Ross and I flew right down."

"Ross?"

"Yes. You're in trouble and he didn't hesitate to come with me. In fact, he and Logan are over at your place while the locals execute a search warrant of your apartment and your car."

His hand tightened into a fist, but that was the only sign of his discomfort with that information. He was not surprised by the warrant; he expected it. "Do you know what's listed in the warrant?"

"I didn't see it, but I know that condoms are specifically listed."

He stiffened a little. "Because the perp used condoms, so they have no DNA. They want to analyze the spermicide they found in...in the victim, break it down and see if it's a chemical match for anything they find at my place. Different batches of spermicide will have slightly different chemical compositions, even among the same brand."

"But that's not strong enough to build a case on, not unless they plan to question every man who has condoms from that batch about where they were the night of the murder and consider every one with no alibi a suspect."

"I know."

She watched him. Some crimes were more difficult for him to handle than others. She remembered women like Angie Suarez and Ella Miyazaki only because he took their deaths so hard. Cassie Morton was going to join the scores of victims who haunted him every night when he slept. For all his toughness, he was a sensitive soul. "Their evidence is weak," she agreed.

"Maybe, maybe not. They have enough probable cause to convince a judge to sign a search warrant. They're playing their hand close to the vest. They have something, but they aren't making it public knowledge. We won't know if it's enough to build a case on until they make an arrest."

"If they had a smoking gun, don't you think they would have already arrested you?"

"Not necessarily. They may be holding out for a confession or something equally irrefutable, something that would strengthen their case for court."

Eames shook her head. "You're a cop. You know better than to incriminate yourself."

He shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. You and I have gotten confessions from cops, Eames. The major difference is I have nothing to confess. They're trying to make me change my story, but I've told them all along exactly what happened. It's not going to change."

"Do you think they're grasping at straws?"

He tapped a chopstick against his plate. "I don't know. I can't imagine what kind of evidence they might have, but I have a feeling they have something they are keeping to themselves. They didn't bring me in for questioning on a whim, and they didn't do it just because I talked to Cassie."

Beneath the table, out of the view of the camera, she pressed her knee against his, knowing that physical contact was the best way to reassure him. More than anything else, Goren craved physical contact. She had never been a very physical person, not like he was, but she was learning to respond to his needs the way he responded to hers, and she was getting better at it. He closed his eyes for a moment, then bumped his knee against hers in reply. She finished her mouthful of sesame chicken, swallowing before she said, "Nothing they have showed Ross or Turner translates into good evidence against you, but I think you're right. They're holding back something. They can't hold you much longer without charging you." She paused. "What will they find at your place, Bobby?"

Finally, he looked at her, but only for a moment. "Nothing incriminating...unless it's something they wanted to be absolutely certain they found."

She shook her head. "That won't happen, not this time. Not with Logan, Ross and Decker there, watching them to make sure they only find what's actually there." She watched him poke at his chicken with one of his chopsticks. "Have you ever planted evidence?"

He turned his head, shifting his eyes toward her, and she melted. Even when he didn't try, he was sexy as hell. She held his gaze, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "It would be a very easy trick to perform," he said. "But I prefer to get my suspects legally."

She'd spent the last ten years watching him do just that. Sometimes his methods were questionable and he toed that legal line, but he never crossed it. She rested her hand over his. "Finish your dinner," she encouraged.

Murphy and Sanchez would dissect everything they said later when they watched what the camera captured. They had to be careful about what they said and what they did. Reluctantly, with even less appetite than before, he tried to eat, but ultimately, he couldn't. He pushed his plate away and sat back. They sat in silence for a few minutes before he turned toward her, his back to the camera as though shielding her. "Eames..." he began softly, but he trailed off and just looked at her.

She watched his eyes as they slowly roamed over her face before settling on her eyes. She felt his gaze touch her soul, and a shiver skittered up her spine. For just a moment, she also saw into his soul, and what she saw shattered her heart, twisting and changing something deep within her. His was a soul in pain, searching desperately for something that alluded him.

His eyes shifted, straying from her face slowly downward, lingering when they fell on her chest. She felt her heart quicken when she saw a flash of heat in his eyes. She felt the same desire begin to burn inside her. She watched his eyes move slowly over the rest of her body, then back to her chest and finally once more to her eyes. He was so intense, she _felt_ the heat of his gaze warm every part of her it touched.

Something drastically changed as he took his visual tour of her body—for both of them. She found herself nearly trembling with need. She felt naked, exposed, and she wanted more from him than he could possibly give her at the moment. She could not keep the heat from her eyes, and she balled her hands into fists to keep from reaching out to him. One touch and she would be done. She was stunned; he had done this to her silently, with only his eyes.

Goren was able to push his pain away when he saw a spark in her that seemed to match his own need. As he let his eyes wander over her body, he also allowed his memories to play along. The sight, the taste, the feel of every inch of skin beneath her clothes became as real to him as if she were naked before him. Every sound she uttered when he played with her in bed echoed in his mind. Some of his tension fell away and he relaxed a little. As always, she did more for him than she would ever know.

He had just finished his erotic perusal of her body when the door opened and Logan entered. He paused near the door, recognizing the look in Goren's eyes. He quickly swallowed the first comment that popped into his head, determined not to be the one to out their relationship. Moving slowly, hoping to give them enough time to recover, he sat across from them, waiting until he had their attention and he knew it was okay to talk. "It was beautiful," he said with a smile. "They searched your place with a fine-toothed comb and came up empty. Murphy was so pissed there was steam coming out of his ears."

"Did they...?" Goren started, surprised to find himself unable to complete his question.

Logan understood that he felt strongly about the violation to his privacy. "We were there the whole time, buddy. They didn't trash the place or break anything. And they didn't find anything to take into evidence. I guess Murphy was expecting to find some kind of diary or a taped confession stuffed under your mattress. He nearly blew a gasket when I made him remake the bed. Decker and Ross backed me on it. I was hoping he'd put up an argument so I could pound him into chop meat, but he didn't. Since they came up empty in your apartment and your car, they're seeking a warrant for your office, but that's going to be much harder to get. Turner's fighting it on principle."

"I don't have any condoms in my desk drawer, and I don't keep a diary."

"It looks to me like they don't really have much of a case, but you're the only suspect they have and they don't want to let you go."

"They have no grounds to arrest me."

"That won't stop them from detaining you for as long as they legally can. In the meantime, Cal Lightman and his team are going to talk to you, at Turner's request. He trusts in your innocence and he believes Lightman can help to prove it."

"Cal Lightman," Goren mused softly. "_The Lies We Tell_...I read his book."

"Of course you did," Eames teased.

His mouth turned up into a small smile as he looked at her. She and Logan were both glad to see it. "So, you're okay with coming under Lightman's scrutiny?" Logan asked.

Goren shrugged. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Leaning back in his chair, Goren answered, "It doesn't bother me to be questioned by Lightman. I didn't do anything wrong. If Vic trusts him that much, I won't question his judgment."

Eames, however, was less eager for him to fall under Lightman's scrutiny. She was all for it if it would help prove his innocence, but she wondered how successful Goren would be in hiding their relationship from the world's leading deception expert, particularly in light of what had just transpired between them. Goren was not always successful at keeping his emotions under control. He hadn't been very successful over the past six months with hiding his feelings for her because they had become so intense and he felt his emotions very strongly. Fortunately, no one around them correctly interpreted his emotional intensity, except Logan, but Logan knew him. Their co-workers invested little effort in getting to know him at all. They simply chalked up the changes in him to the quirkiness to which they had become accustomed. Lightman, however, was experienced with identifying emotions and the underlying motivations that drove them. As brilliant as he was at reading others, Goren was not so in tune with himself and his own emotions. Lightman, she was afraid, would easily be able to read the emotional ties that bound Goren to her, and she was terrified that his revelation could spell the end for their relationship. Because of Lightman, her greatest fear was revealed to her: she was terrified of losing Goren. It was a loss she did not want to address but it was now looking her full in the face and she could not control her fear. Without a word, she got up and hurried from the room.


	12. Coming Clean

**A/N: Again to THW, who chooses to submit unsigned reviews so that I cannot respond directly: Sometimes I omit certain details, counting on my readers to trust me to rectify those situations later in the story. In the initial draft of this story, Goren actually was arrested, but I changed that and I hope I caught and changed the details that had to be altered with the storyline. If I missed any, I apologize. To clarify a point or two: Goren did _not_ know about the search of his apartment until Eames told him, and by that time Logan and the FBI agents were already on their way. So he stayed with Eames. Also, don't think he is not defending himself because he hasn't run out to find an attorney or stormed out of the interrogation room. He doesn't yet know why he is a person of interest for the murder or what they think they have against him. The only way he can find out is to try to get more information from them. He won't get any information by walking out. He did not kill anyone, but he would be driven to find out who did. He does not have access to the scene or the case file, except for the photos he has already been shown, and he needs some kind of starting point. So all he can do is gather what information he can get from the cops who are working the case and he can best do that by cooperating with them. He doesn't want to give them more reason to suspect him. Just because he's not being aggressive and violent does not mean he is being passive. Goren is more cerebral than physical. He has not walked out because he doesn't want to. Nothing will be gained by leaving with no information. Still think that's something Goren would not do? Goren does fight for the rights of suspects and victims, and he is not above putting himself in an uncomfortable situation to gather more information. Remember 'Untethered'? As for Eames being concerned about the relationship—he has not been formally accused, and she trusts in his innocence. I do not think it's unreasonable for her to worry about the relationship becoming public. Ross would be well within his authority to assign them different partners, if he wanted to, once he found out they were involved. She certainly would worry about that. Historically, Goren hasn't done well with other partners...Bishop, for example.  
><strong>

**I am certain you are very knowledgeable about the laws where you studied and where you live, and if this story took place there, your criticism would certainly have merit. As TeddyMo stated, the laws differ in every state, and then there is the basic premise upon which our entire legal system is based: innocent until proven guilty. Last summer, several officers where I live were investigated for their involvement in a death that the coroner ruled a homicide. Every one of them was returned to full duty once the investigation cleared them of any wrongdoing. To automatically fire an officer for standing accused of a crime is wrong, and I am sorry that your cousin was a victim of that. Additionally, in the Law and Order world, Mike Logan assaulted a councilman in front of many witnesses, and he remained on the job. Granted, he was on Staten Island for a decade, but he kept his job and eventually was sent to Major Case. Finally, the nice thing about writing fiction is that you really can change the way things are to the way you would like them to be. After all, fiction is not reality. **

* * *

><p>Goren got to his feet and took a couple of steps toward the door, but he stopped and looked at Logan, confused. Logan looked from the door to Goren. "Was it something we said?"<p>

Goren shrugged. "I don't know."

The door opened again, and Murphy and Sanchez entered. Murphy glared at Logan. "Out," he said.

Logan looked at Goren and said, "I don't think he and I are ever gonna be buddies."

Murphy was losing what little patience he had. "Did you hear me, New York?"

"Keep your britches on," Logan replied. "I'm going."

He squeezed Goren's shoulder and left the room. Goren returned to his seat and watched Murphy, who dropped a file on the table as he sat down across from him. "How long are we going to play this game?" Goren asked.

Murphy frowned. "Game? Is that what you think this is? A game?"

"If you had any solid, irrefutable evidence, I would be in handcuffs. You know that I can walk out that door and you can't stop me."

"So why don't you?"

"What purpose would that serve me? I'm cooperating, detective. Right now, all you have on me is the bartender's statement that he saw me talking to the victim for a couple of hours Friday night. I already admitted that he was right. I did spend some time with her that night. But you have nothing solid on me after that and you can't build a prosecutable case on speculation."

"You seem so confident," Murphy accused.

"I'm not an ignorant bystander. I've been a cop for almost thirty years. If you had a real case, you would have arrested me by now."

"Sometimes it takes time to build a viable case."

"It also takes evidence. I know where I was after I left that bar and it wasn't with Miss Morton."

Murphy scowled and folded his hands on the file in front of him. "How long have you been in the city, Agent Goren?"

More repetition, fishing for inconsistencies. "About two months."

"And when was the last time you were in New York?"

"About a month ago."

Murphy stood up. "It's getting late and I don't have anything more at the moment."

Goren didn't get up. "Do you have the crime scene photos?"

Murphy studied him for a moment. "Yes."

"Can I see them again?"

The detective looked at Sanchez, who shrugged. Murphy saw no reason to refuse since Goren had already seen them. He slowly pulled the photos from the folder he was holding, passing them to Goren. Taking his time, Goren studied the pictures. He passed them back, his expression thoughtful. "Thanks."

Murphy was still frowning. "You can go now, but be back here at eight to talk to Dr. Lightman."

"Is that a request?" Goren asked.

Murphy's jaw knotted. "Yes," he said tightly.

With a nod, Goren said, "I'll be here."

Rising, he left the room, followed by the two detectives. Logan, Eames and Ross met him in the hall. Logan made no effort to hide his amusement as he asked Murphy, "What? You can't say please?"

Goren grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away from Murphy before the detective had a chance to react. "Come on, Mike."

As they walked away from the interrogation room, Logan called, "So long, Sunshine. It's been a blast."

Giving Logan another shove, Goren grumbled, "If he short-sheeted my bed, I'm going to hit you."

Ross smiled. He'd never had a chance to spend much time with Goren and Logan together, and he liked them as a team. He looked at Eames, but she seemed lost in thought and didn't look back at him. He turned his attention to Goren. "Turner and Decker will be back in the morning with Lightman. What did you see in those pictures, detective?"

"A couple of things that don't make sense. Did they tell you anything about the evidence they collected at the scene?"

"No. We're lucky they showed us the pictures."

"So you saw them, too?"

"Yes."

Goren nodded, but didn't say anything more. Ross moved past him and led the way to his rental car. Goren fell in step with Eames, gently touching her elbow. She looked up at him and offered a weak smile. His eyes questioned her, but she patted his arm then looked away.

Ross pulled out his keys as Goren nudged Logan. "Got a notepad?"

Logan produced a pad from his pocket and handed it to him. Goren wrote on it and handed the page to Ross. "Meet us at my place."

The captain nodded without questioning him. Logan turned to walk down the street toward his car, but Goren hesitated. After a moment, he said, "Thank you for coming down, captain."

Ross nodded. "This isn't over yet. I think they are hoping to get enough from Lightman to strengthen their case."

"And Turner is hoping whatever Lightman gets will weaken their case."

"I hope Turner is right."

"If Lightman is as good as they say, he will be. We'll see you shortly."

Ross got into his car, but Eames remained with Goren and Logan. When they got to Logan's car and she slid into the back seat, Goren slid in beside her. Once Logan had pulled away from the curb and they were gone from the station, Goren leaned forward to try to catch her eyes. "You're upset," he said softly.

She knew she would be brought accountable for leaving the room like she did, and she'd managed to pull herself together. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that."

"Why did you?"

"Bobby, you're being railroaded. They are going to dig and dig until they get what they want."

"They can dig to China but they won't find anything."

"I don't trust them. They're too cocky."

He shifted closer to her. "I have faith in the system," he said softly, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "It's the only thing in my life that hasn't let me down."

She moved, closing the remaining distance between them as he slipped his arm around her and kissed her head. He leaned forward again, looking for her eyes, but she wasn't quite ready for that so she let him find her mouth instead.

Logan reached back and thumped Goren on the head. "Hey, we have company."

He pulled away from Eames and looked out the back window. They were driving down a residential street, so there were not as many streetlights as in a business district, but he could tell it was a dark-colored sedan. Ross was driving a tan one, so it wasn't him.

"When did they pick us up?"

"About two blocks from the station."

Logan made a left at the next corner. The sedan came around the corner as he prepared to turn right. "Now what purpose do they think it will serve if they follow me?" Goren wondered out loud.

"Maybe they think you stashed your condoms someplace else and are going to pick them up."

Goren laughed, a genuine laugh of real amusement. Eames smiled and rested her hand on his thigh, grateful to Logan for being able to make him laugh. He closed his hand over hers and leaned back in his seat. "I didn't rob a bank, and I haven't needed condoms for a couple of months. What else could they be looking for? Do they think I'm going to return to the scene of the crime? That would be a real trick since I have no idea where she lived."

Eames tightened her grip on his hand and rested her head against his arm. She made a soft noise. "Will you be honest with me?"

"Of course."

"Why were you there at that bar, Bobby?"

He was quiet for a long time, holding her hand in both of his. Finally, he said, "I haven't seen you for a month, and when I finally got some free time, you blew me off. I felt...rejected. You were punishing me for something that wasn't my fault, and that made me angry. So I went out for a couple of drinks."

"Just a couple?"

He shrugged. "Enough to dull the pain."

"And the woman?"

"She saw me sitting there alone, so she came over and said hello."

"And you flirted with her."

He paused, unsure of her tone, but he kept his eyes focused on her hand in his lap. "Yes. It was harmless...at least, on my end it was. I...I like to flirt. You know that. I don't mean anything by it, except with you."

"I know. But she wanted more."

"A lot more than I was willing to give."

He was not always honest with her, especially when he thought something might hurt her, but he was being honest right then. He didn't have much choice. She leaned forward to look at his face, expectantly waiting for more. He didn't look at her right away. In his mind, he saw the warm depths of Cassie Morton's eyes, the long brown hair that flowed down her back, the smooth creaminess of her tanned skin, the curves of her body beneath the sharp business suit she wore. He heard the quiet laughter that almost got to him. Everything about her broadcast her intentions, and he chose to play with fire.

He tried to keep his fidgeting under control as he explained, "She was very pretty, very flirty, and by the end of the night, very drunk. I should have walked away sooner, but I-I didn't. She was interested in me. So I stayed, because I...liked the attention she gave me, and I liked her. She made me feel...better. I needed that positive attention." It was difficult for him to tell her about it. He had never intended for her to find out, but life had a way of coming around to bite him in the ass when he least expected it. He had no choice but to come clean with her. He shifted uncomfortably. "I stayed with her for a couple of hours, until...until she kissed me. She, uhm, she caught me off guard. I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. That was when I knew I'd had too much to drink, so I left. I...uh, I knew that the least I should have done was walk her home, but we were both drunk, and things could have...gotten out of hand if I had done that. So I paid for our drinks and I took off. I don't know who she was with or where she went after that. She was playing a dangerous game, and she paid the price. She really wanted to get laid, and she was cruising for a guy willing to accept her offer. She wanted me to be the one, and she would have been safe with me, but all I wanted was a distraction so I wouldn't feel so miserable about spending my first free weekend in a month alone. I really didn't want what she was offering."

She looked down and squeezed his hand. So many emotions were battling for her attention at the moment. Fortunately, reason won out over feeling and she was able to calmly say, "I have to accept some of the blame for making you miserable. I wanted to surprise you but that's so damn hard to do. Logan told me I could have chosen a better way to do it, and I'm sorry for that, but I am not sorry I came down to see you."

"Neither am I." He finally looked at her. "I needed to see you."

She met his eyes. She wanted to be angry with him, and she could see that was what he was expecting, but most of the anger that had been brewing in her faded away. She expected him to try to shift some of the blame for his situation onto her, and she was ready to argue about it, but he seemed more than willing to accept full responsibility for his predicament. It took some effort on her part, but ultimately, she was able to admit that her actions played a major role in his decision to go out that night, setting in motion the events that led them to where they were now.

Reaching out, she ran her hand along the side of his face in a tender caress. "It's okay," she promised.

His eyes searched her face in the dim light of the passing streetlights. "Do you mean that?" he asked.

She leaned closer and softly kissed him, offering the physical reassurance he would never find in her words. "Yes, I mean it," she whispered against his mouth. "It's going to be okay."

"And...us?" he asked with reluctance, afraid of the answer but needing to know.

She brushed her lips over his again, gently combing her fingers through his hair. "We're fine, Bobby."

He pulled back a little to search her eyes. "You...You mean that?"

"Absolutely," she answered without hesitation.

Gently playing with her hair, he pressed his forehead against hers, then nuzzled her cheek. With a soft grunt, he whispered, "I want you."

She tried not to smile. "Then you shouldn't have invited Ross over."

With reluctance, he sat back. "I need his help. We need to..."

She silenced him by touching his mouth. Lightly, she feathered the tips of her fingers over his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned toward her. She met him halfway and there was no going back. Logan took the long way home.


	13. Always in Trouble

Ross was waiting in the lobby of the building when they arrived. Logan grinned at him. "Traffic," he said with a shake of his head.

"At this hour?" Ross replied skeptically. "I didn't notice that much traffic out there."

"I guess I chose the wrong way to go," he replied as he pushed the up button on the elevator.

It was a small elevator, old but kept in working condition. Goren hated it. His claustrophobia kicked in every time he got into the small car, which was why he usually chose to take the stairs. Eames noticed his tension and understood. Glancing at Ross to make sure his back was to them, she stepped a little closer to her partner and slid her hand under his jacket and along his waist above his belt. He trembled and shifted his eyes toward her, grateful for the distraction.

Once off the elevator, he relaxed a little and led the way down the dimly lit hallway to his apartment. Opening the door, he stood to the side to let the others enter first, reaching out to squeeze Eames' arm as she passed him. She nudged him with her shoulder, and he smiled a little. Logan was already in the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the refrigerator. "Want one?" he asked, holding out a bottle.

"No thanks," Goren replied, pulling open the cabinet doors near the sink.

He took down a tumbler and a highball glass. As he opened the doors over the sink, he got down a bottle of scotch and a bottle of rum. He poured a couple of fingers of rum into the highball glass, then filled his tumbler with scotch.

Eames came into the kitchen as Logan left with two beers, one for him and one for Ross. She met Goren's gaze as she walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cola. She added the cola to the rum in her glass and looked at him, smiling softly at the warmth in his eyes. Glancing at the doorway, he quickly leaned over to steal a kiss from her. She rested a hand tenderly on his cheek before she turned and walked away. He followed her back to the living room.

Eames sat on the couch between Logan and Ross while Goren paced restlessly. Ross watched him pace for a few minutes before he broke the silence by asking, "Did you leave anything out of what you told the locals about that night?"

Goren shook his head, trying not to read anything into the captain's question. "No."

"How drunk were you?"

"Not too drunk to remember what happened."

"Is the bar nearby?"

He nodded. "A couple of blocks away. I wasn't there on a whim. It's the bar I go to when I want a few drinks because it's close. Like I told the detectives, after I left the bar, I went for a walk, then I came home. I never saw her again."

Ross knew of Goren's propensity to wander when he wanted to think or when he was troubled. "Why did you need to go for a walk after a night of drinking?"

The captain's questions were beginning to feel more like an interrogation, but he managed to keep his irritation under control. "I felt unsettled. Issues at work had me aggravated and a personal situation had me upset. I went for a walk to settle down until Logan called me to tell me he was coming down."

"What kind of personal situation?"

Goren's eyes narrowed as he looked at Ross. "One that has no bearing on why you're here."

Ross wished he could get the man to trust him, but he understood his reluctance. Their relationship had been rocky from the start, and Ross knew that the blame for most of that was on his shoulders. He came to the squad filled with preconceived notions about Goren and Logan, expecting trouble from them both. He had not given either man a fair chance, but he'd been especially hard on Goren. His intelligence and his natural ability as a profiler intimidated Ross, so he'd fought twice as hard to establish his dominance rather than trying to earn Goren's respect. "So you came home and-?"

"Nothing has changed, captain. I did just what I told the locals I did. I turned on the news and had a couple more beers. Then I fell asleep on the couch. That's where I was when Logan and Eames got here."

"What time was that?"

Goren had no idea, so he looked at Logan and Eames for the answer. Logan shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Sometime between five and six, I guess. It was around 11 when I talked to him. We left New York sometime between midnight and one."

"And during that time?" Ross asked, returning his attention to Goren.

His irritation flashed in his eyes, setting Logan and Eames on edge. "Why are you trying to trip me up? I've already answered that question. Do you expect a different answer? Do you think my story is going to change because you reworded the question?"

"That is exactly what the locals want you to do, and so far you haven't given them the satisfaction. I don't know what they are really after, but all I want is the truth."

"I've given you the truth. I talked to Eames early in the evening and then went out for a couple of drinks. I spent a few hours with Miss Morton, went for a walk after I left the bar and then I came home. I spent the rest of the night right there, on that couch. My story won't change because that was what happened. Nothing more."

Wisely, Ross changed the focus of his questions. "You said she was there with a purpose."

"Yes, sir. She told me she'd had a difficult week. Her boyfriend broke up with her and she'd been fighting with a male colleague to get the lead on a big case. She was feeling...inadequate, and she wanted some affirmation of her worth as a woman. She was looking to get laid. She thought I was an easy mark, and she seemed surprised and disappointed when I turned her down. I honestly don't know who she was with after that because I didn't hang around."

"Was she not your type?"

His irritation was turning to anger. "Do I have to explain my motivation?"

"That might make it easier to understand why you did what you did."

Goren's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever understood me, captain? Have you ever tried?"

"If you won't work with me, Goren, I can't help you."

Goren's eyes then flashed with anger, and Eames knew she had to step in before he said something he might regret. When she stood up, he automatically shifted his attention from Ross to her. She frowned and he turned away, returning to the kitchen. "Excuse us," she muttered as she followed him to the kitchen.

"Bobby," she hissed. "Don't make things any more difficult for yourself."

"Do you want me to tell him why I turned her down?" he snapped. "Because if it wasn't for you, I would have gone home with her."

His voice was soft but he was still angry and his words stung. She struggled not to snap back at him. "All I'm saying is don't start a fight with him."

He waved his hand, agitated. "He thinks I'm withholding something that will tie me to her murder...or maybe he just thinks that it was bound to happen."

"He doesn't think that."

"No? It sure came to him easy enough when he found out who my biological father is!"

She moved closer to him and firmly said, "Let me handle Ross, okay? Stay in here for a minute and calm down."

She reached up suddenly and brushed her lips across his. He closed his eyes for a second as she started to move away, but then he grabbed her and pulled her back to him. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair.

They were both tense, trying to rein in their tempers. Leaning over, he gave her a proper kiss. She pressed against him, lingering for a moment before she withdrew. She looked into his eyes, glancing toward the door before she reached up to caress his cheek. Some of his anger faded as he watched her walk away.

Ross looked at her when she entered the living room. "Is he okay?"

She nodded. "He's under a lot of stress right now. He didn't mean anything, captain."

The captain got to his feet. "I understand, and I will cut him some slack. Maybe I should talk to him tomorrow."

"That might be better," she agreed.

"Sorry to have wasted your time," Logan said.

"Forget it," Ross replied. "I'll see you in the morning. Tell him I said good night."

Eames closed the door behind the captain, sliding the bolt into place. Turning her back to the door, she leaned against it and looked at Logan. Goren stopped in the kitchen doorway, holding his glass and shifting his eyes back and forth between her and Logan.

Eames finally spoke. "What do you know about Dr. Lightman?"

Goren took a drink. "He's the leading authority on deception detection. A human lie detector, if you will. He relies on applied psychology to gather information, mostly by reading body language and microexpressions."

"Same shit you do that makes it so hard to lie to your face," Logan said. "Which, I might add, is kinda how we got into this fix. She wanted to surprise you but it's so damn hard to lie to you, even over the phone." He turned his head to look at Eames. "Something came up...I still can't believe that's what you went with."

Goren looked at her as well. "Why _did_ you tell me that?"

She straightened her back and stared them both down. "I wanted to come down here to the Capitol, to be with you in different surroundings for a change of pace, but you were so damn stubborn about not wanting me to make the drive down here. So I decided to surprise you but I didn't know how to go about doing it. So I told you I had a change of plans, which was entirely true. I didn't want to upset you, but I figured it would just be for a few hours."

Logan shrugged. "Who knew you'd flip out and go cruising for a woman to help you feel better?"

Goren frowned. "I didn't."

With a snort of disbelief, Logan leaned back and took a drink of his beer. Goren searched Eames' face. "Is that what _you_ think?"

She was quiet for a moment before finally answering, "I don't know what to think, except to hope you weren't feeding me a line."

"It's the closest bar," he answered, clearly defensive. "I admit, I was upset, and I wanted a couple of drinks. Maybe some company." His eyes shifted away. "I hadn't seen you in a month. I was...lonely...but I wasn't looking for sex. I don't...I...wouldn't..."

She didn't move from her place by the door until his tone changed with those last few words and the defensiveness was replaced by a very different tone of voice. During their entire separation, she had been focused on her own anger at being put off again and again by the demands of the job he was doing. She had not taken the time to see it from his point of view. She hadn't given any thought to how difficult it had been for him as well. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had questioned his fidelity, his devotion to her, and now she was ashamed that she had. He worked so hard to overcome his past, to be better than the man who had raised him, and here she was, practically accusing him of being just like William Goren.

She approached him, but he straightened away from her. "You said we were okay. I...I wasn't reading you because I wanted to believe you."

"Is that what you do when you want to believe someone? You just don't look for deception?"

It wasn't difficult to see what he wanted to see in her face when they were in the darkness of a moving car, and he hadn't looked any deeper than to see what he chose to interpret as love in her eyes. "It's easier to believe someone when you can't see that they're lying." He frowned. "I thought you didn't want me to read you."

"I don't...not all the time..."

He finished his drink and turned away from her, walking back to the counter. She watched him open the bottle and refill his glass. When he raised the glass to his lips, though, his hand was trembling. Since the early days of their partnership, she had wished she could read him, but she couldn't. As well as she knew him, even now, she could not read him. "We _are_ okay," she said, desperate to convince him of her sincerity. "I just want to be sure..."

"Sure that I won't do to you what he did to her?"

His parents. "No," she answered. "I trust you more than that. But a wounded animal responds in unpredictable ways, and you were hurt. I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"And you didn't think you did? We hadn't seen each other for a month, and when we finally had a chance to be together, you blew me off and you didn't think I would be hurt?"

"Why didn't you say something right after I got here?"

"Because I was so damn happy to see you!"

"Bobby, I'm sorry. I should have known you'd be hurt and I should have known better than to try to surprise you..."

He waved his hand in the air, seeing where she was going with 'I should have known.' "No...don't put this one off on me. Maybe I should have stayed home and drowned my sorrows here, but I wanted some companionship. Forgive me for being human. I know that it's my own damn fault I'm in trouble, but I didn't do anything wrong! Not this time! But whether I'm wrong or whether I'm right, I always get in trouble."

He threw his glass at the sink and stormed past her, through the living room and out the door. She started after him, but Logan was already on his feet, waving at her. "I've got him," he said, and she knew he was right.

The door slammed closed behind Logan and she stared at it for a minute. Not knowing what to feel, she went into the kitchen to clean up the broken glass.

* * *

><p>Logan caught up to Goren quickly, falling into step beside him as they walked away from the apartment. "So you lost the coin toss?" Goren grumbled.<p>

"Nope. It's my turn to babysit," Logan shot back.

Goren gave him a sharp look, but Logan grinned. He gave Logan a shove with his shoulder, and Logan shoved him back. Goren felt his irritation begin to fade. The two men walked along in silence for a little while before Goren said, "I don't know what to do, Mike."

"You know what you _want_ to do. You want to go back to the apartment and love the hell out of her. You have no insecurities about your abilities in bed, and if you can keep her happy there, then maybe she'll stay a little while longer...because you don't know if she loves you as much as you love her, or even if she loves you at all. That's what you're afraid to find out."

Logan always seemed to hit the nail on the head, and that simply reaffirmed to Goren how much alike they were. He thought about what Logan said before he replied, "Once, I didn't care why she stayed, as long as she did. Now...I don't want it to be just for the sex, Mike. I want her to stay because she loves me, not because she's getting something out of it. I can always get sex, but I can't find what I have with her anywhere else. That's why I don't go looking anywhere else. That's why Cassie Morton died."

"Hey—what happened to that woman was not your fault. She was looking for trouble. You didn't do anything wrong when you turned her down."

"I know that. But why is it so wrong to take the high road? I mean...shortly before the case at Brooklyn Fed you helped us with, we had a case involving a man who just wanted a woman to stay. He just wanted to be loved. So he tried to create a woman who would just be his, one who would never choose to leave him."

"Yeah? How'd he do that?"

"He, uh, he...drilled a hole in her skull and poured boiling water on her brain. The first woman died, but he didn't mean to kill her. The second woman...well, she'll never recover."

"He didn't mean to kill her? What did he think boiling her brain was gonna do?"

"By destroying her free will, he created a woman who would never leave, a warm body to be his forever."

"Please tell me you aren't defending this guy."

"I'm not. What he did was horrible. But...I understand that loneliness. He didn't mean to kill anyone, and I got him to confess, to show his remorse."

"And you got the death penalty pulled off the table."

He nodded. "I wasn't flavor of the month with anyone after that one. He was a quiet guy, very shy... They put him in with the general population, and he got beaten to death in the prison laundry one day. I went out on a limb and the guy got the sentence he deserved, but he ended up dead anyway."

Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. "What is it with you? Why do you go to bat for the perps?"

"Mike, justice isn't true justice unless it serves everyone. The punishment should fit the crime or it's not justice. Sometimes...we go overboard. We get blinded by emotion. It's hard for the victims, I know, and I feel for them. I feel their pain, every one of them. But I understand the criminals, too. I can get into their heads and I know why they do what they do. Sometimes they get off too light, and sometimes what we call justice deals a blow that's too heavy-handed. I try to find the balance as often as I can."

"And the point of this story? Please don't say you want to turn Eames into a zombie."

Goren laughed. "Not at all. I like it when she fights back. But I don't want her to get fed up with the fighting. I want to give her what she wants."

"But what about what you want? Do you think she gets off on the fighting like you do?"

"I think she likes the make ups as much as I do. But I don't want her to get tired of the fighting and end it. It just seems...It seems like every time I try to do the right thing, it turns out wrong. Look at what happened after I went to Tate's. And look at Cassie Morton. No matter what decision I make, something bad comes of it. I can't win."

"Stay on your moral high road, Bobby. It can be frustrating as hell, but it's who you are. If you change that, you change yourself, and we don't want that. Be yourself, and then come to us when the road begins to crumble. We know how to shore it up."

Goren smiled. "And when she gets tired of all the work?"

"If she loves you, it's not work."

"That's a really big 'if', Mike."

"Talk to her."

"I've tried. She changes the subject."

Logan gave him another nudge. "You're a cop and one of the best damn interrogators I've ever seen. Corner her and make her talk to you."

"Corner her? Do you know what happens when you corner a wild cat?"

"You can take her."

"No, I can't."

"If you want a future with her, you have to take that chance. There's no other way."

They were heading back toward the apartment by now, and Goren sighed. "Well, I guess if I have it out with her tonight, there's a good chance it won't matter what Lightman thinks tomorrow."

Logan laughed softly. "She may surprise you, buddy."

"She always does."

* * *

><p>Eames was on the couch, flipping through the channels, when the men returned. She looked up casually when they came in the door. "Uh-oh," Logan muttered.<p>

She stared at Goren. "Can you read me now?" she asked.

"You...You're angry."

"Brilliant. Logan, go somewhere else."

"That bar is looking better and better," Logan replied. "Call me when it's safe to come back." He looked at Goren, then at Eames. "I'll help you get rid of his body."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Goren retorted.

"I always bet on a sure thing."

"The long shots pay better."

Logan clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder and left the apartment.


	14. He Will Never Be Joe

Slowly, Goren turned back toward Eames, watching her stand and approach him. She stood in front of him, barefoot. The fact that he towered a full fourteen inches over her and outweighed her by more than half never entered her mind. He was just Bobby, her partner, her friend, and of late, her lover, and she knew him well enough not to be intimidated by him.

He looked down at her, never taking into account her diminutive size. She was Eames, and Eames was bigger than life. She was every inch a much larger person than her size would indicate. He respected her, he deferred to her, he loved her.

The longer she stared him down, though, the more her anger faded. Finally, she let out a huff and turned away. He watched her, wondering what had just happened. With her back to him, though, he was at a disadvantage. _Talk to her._ He could never figure out why Logan's voice was the voice of reason in his mind, but he didn't question it. Finally, he decided that whatever happened to him in the Morton case, he wasn't going to go into it without knowing where he stood with Eames. He didn't move, didn't reach out to her, and he didn't raise his voice. Softly, he asked one question, a simple one that required only a yes or no answer. "Do you love me?"

He watched her back stiffen, and he tried to brace himself for the answer he did not want to hear. He expected her to say no. He had expected it all along, which was why he'd never pushed for a reply when he told her that he loved her. His best hope had been to keep her in the relationship by whatever means necessary for as long as he possibly could. He had always been okay with her staying for the sex, for the companionship, for whatever reason she had. He didn't need her to love him. That's what he told himself. And it was a lie.

Slowly, she turned to face him, and she found herself on the edge of a deep chasm. If she took a step forward, her life would change forever. Behind her was everything she knew, everything that was comfortable and unchanging. In front of her was...him. Everything about him was intense and complicated, passionate and often surreal. He promised her a life filled with fire and passion, a life cocooned in the warmth of his love, which was something she never had to question. All she had to say was yes.

But she could not enter that life under false pretenses. She had to know how she felt before she could commit to him. It would not be fair to either of them if she stayed with him in a lie. He was putting it all out there with his ultimatum, which was the only way she could interpret his question. _Love me or leave me._

All her life, she had resented ultimatums. She hated the 'either-or' scenario and always sought the third alternative. But now, faced with his ultimatum, she felt no resentment. She didn't look for the third alternative because she knew there wasn't one. Either she loved him the way he loved her or she didn't. She couldn't force herself to feel one or the other, but she did have to look deep and recognize what was there. She had to analyze herself, something she always hated to do.

She felt a flash of anger at him because he had been the first one to figure out his heart. She resented him for that. He was supposed to be the screwed up one. He was supposed to be the one who was not in touch with his emotions. He wasn't supposed to be the one who figured it out first.

He was getting nervous. The longer she stood there, silent, the greater his foreboding grew. Anxiety caused a sheen of sweat to form across his forehead. A bead of sweat ran down his back. But he stood his ground. He wanted an answer, and he would stand there until he got it.

Memories...She was overwhelmed by memories of him, of them...of wanting him, of worrying about him, of...of loving him. Her mind took a sudden unexpected turn, and she was assaulted by thoughts of what might be, of what her life would become if he were not in it, and she became engulfed in a sudden, blinding panic. Her throat became tight and she couldn't breathe. She tried to gasp for air, but nothing made it past the constriction in her throat. Darkness crept in on her and he began to fade from her sight, like a spectre that wasn't really there. _No!_

She made a sudden strangled sound and her knees buckled. "Alex!"

He jumped forward, catching her before she crashed to the floor. Limp in his arms, she began to breathe again. Lifting her, he carried her into the bedroom and laid her on his bed. Gently, he unbuttoned her shirt so that nothing constricted her chest. He watched as her chest rose and fell in a gentle cadence, a normal breathing pattern he knew as well as his own. He caressed her forehead, her face...and she made a soft noise.

Slowly, she came around, and her mind returned her to the scenario that had shocked her: a life without him. Her eyes flew open and she cried out for him.

"I'm right here," he said softly, his tone much calmer than he felt.

She threw her arms around his neck and held on tightly, reluctant to let go for fear he would vaporize into thin air. Call it a waking nightmare or whatever you wanted, she never wanted to experience anything like it again. She stroked his hair, drawing back just far enough to kiss him. She could sense his confusion, but he let her touch him, kiss him, and gradually she calmed herself.

Once she was calm, she withdrew. Leaning back against the headboard, she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He sat there on the edge of the bed, not touching her, his face a mask of worry and confusion. All he'd done was ask her if she loved him. It was a direct question seeking a direct answer. He had no idea how to interpret what had just happened. As much as he wanted an answer, he was afraid to ask the question again and now he didn't know what to do. So he sat there in confusion and waited to follow her lead.

He should have just kept his mouth shut and followed Logan's first suggestion. He should have come back, apologized and took her to bed. In bed they were in sync, in harmony with each other and the needs of their bodies. Nothing else mattered then, and, most importantly, he didn't have to think. He just went along with what felt right, with what felt good, and he was never wrong. He should have just left well enough alone.

She watched him, and she wondered what was going through his mind. She could not even begin to guess. There was only one way to find out...

"What are you thinking?" she asked before she could silence her mouth.

He tipped his head to the left, a curious look, one that always melted her heart. _Dammit._ He started to speak, but shook his head and decided against saying whatever had been on his mind.

She always chose the damnedest times to ask him questions like that. After what had just happened, he felt ashamed to admit he'd been thinking about loving her. Not having sex, not fucking her. No. Loving her. Because that was what he did, every time he stretched out on top of her or drew her down onto him. Every motion, every grunt and groan, every kiss and touch, every bead of sweat that was shed and each drop of blood that was drawn...it was all love. He lightly scratched his shoulder where she'd bitten him the other night and he tried to remember if he'd ever done that to her. Funny thing...his was the only blood ever shed, and the pain associated with her bites and scratches did something to him. Quickly, he steered his thoughts away from those memories, but his hand had moved almost of its own accord to rest on her bare foot. Gently, he stroked it and he brought his gaze back to her face.

Her mouth curved into a smile she tried to suppress as he continued to stroke her foot. His touch was electrifying, firing the nerves from her toes straight up her leg into her groin. Everything along that path tingled and she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations. She shifted her hips and wriggled her toes. _Oh, God..._

_No... _Moving quickly, she rolled away from him and got off the bed. A little more of that and she would be taking off her clothes and then his. The residual tingling did not want to be chased away, but sex was not going to solve their problem. Not this time. Not just yet, anyway.

He watched her, not missing the heat of arousal in her eyes. When she scurried away from him, he understood. He wanted her, but right now there was a more important issue at hand, one that would be made muddy by sex. He needed the waters around them to be clear if he would love her again, and he really hated using _if_ in that scenario. Right now, their future together was as uncertain as it had ever been.

She paced near the foot of the bed, suddenly aware of her open shirt. As she buttoned it, she looked at him. Her answer should be an easy one, but it wasn't as simple as loving or not loving him. In order to say yes, she had to be willing to commit herself to him for the long haul. To say no was to walk away for good, to devastate a life that had already been brought low by too many departures. But she could not say yes just to spare him that. She had to mean it. It wasn't about their partnership or the sexual relationship they shared. It was so much more than that. She could not answer him with addendums or exclusions. It was all or nothing, and again, she hated ultimatums. This one, however, she understood. The root of her indecision, though, lay in the past.

When she first met Joe Dutton, she was put off by his manner. He was arrogant and assertive, a cop's attitude. Goren had that same cockiness, but his demeanor was softened by an underlying tenderness she'd always found surprising. That wasn't to say he wasn't all cop. He could be an ass with the best of them. There was just an elemental gentleness to him that had always been attractive to her. Enduring a life that would have hardened most people, he had instead become a gentle soul, vulnerable and understanding.

When she began to date Joe, she was simply looking for a good time, and he certainly was that. The first time he said 'I love you', she'd responded in kind because it was expected, not because she actually loved him. The real love, the love that fueled her grief when he died, came later. She had lived more years since he'd been gone than they had been together. The marriage lasted three years, half the length of the relationship, and she still missed him. It was that pervasive, long-lasting grief that kept her from falling in love again.

She looked at Goren, sitting on the edge of the bed watching her. It was the ghost of her dead husband that loomed between them and kept her from loving him, and she was once more filled with the anger and resentment she felt toward Joe for leaving her. She'd loved him while she had him and she hated him for dying and leaving her a shell of her former self, unable to love, unable to be happy.

Goren finally sighed. She wasn't going to give him a yes or no answer. She didn't want to hurt him, and he misinterpreted her protracted silence. "Why don't you lay down and get some sleep?" he said, rising and moving away from the bed.

Touching her elbow, he gently guided her to the bed. She got into the bed and shifted over to make room for him, but he shook his head. "No. I'll be in the living room."

She frowned. "You'd rather sleep with Logan?"

He didn't react to her half-teasing barb. "I have too much to think about. I won't be sleeping."

She felt an unexplained panic rise within her. "Bobby...come on...Please..."

He shook his head again. "Alex...I...I get it, okay?" he said. "I thought it was enough that you stayed no matter what your reason was, just as long as you stayed. I know I said I was okay with you staying because of the sex, but I was wrong. It's not enough. Not any more. I want...something more, something...meaningful. I understand now that it's not something I will ever find, so I think it's just better for me to be alone."

Her heart caught in her throat. That wasn't how she wanted it. Not at all. "Bobby..."

"Please don't. I can't force you to feel something just because I want you to feel it, and you can't force it either. I wouldn't want you to. For a long time now, I've prepared myself to live my life alone. I was a fool for thinking it would be different with you. I should never have let it happen, whatever it was that we've had these last six months, because I've ruined the best relationship I ever had. I should have known better. I, uhm, I'll prepare my letter of resignation tonight and give it to Ross in the morning so you can both go back to New York. I'm no longer your responsibility."

She sat up and glared at him, stunned. When she found her voice, she got out of the bed and approached him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Rather than make him defensive, the anger in her voice irritated him. What right did she have to get angry? "Where do you want me to start?" he snapped.

Unexpectedly, she lashed out and hit him with a closed fist, square on the mouth, catching him by surprise. Stumbling back a couple of steps, he tasted blood. Her eyes were bright with fury and she stomped after him. "I ought to let you walk away, you stupid ox! Damn you, Goren! Ross was right. You overthink everything! Sometimes I want to strangle you, and sometimes I just don't know _what_ to do with you!"

She hit him again, but he was a little more prepared and she struck him on the shoulder, once, twice, three times. Other than shifting slightly away from her so that she didn't hit his face again, he made no move to protect himself from her.

She continued ranting. "Were you just going to walk away without letting me answer your question?"

"If you knew how you felt, you wouldn't need a month to find the answer," he retorted, irritation blooming into full anger.

"It's not as simple as you think," she shot back.

"Why not?"

She stopped, caught off guard by another deceptively simple question. She stood there, facing off with him, out of breath from her assault of him and the anger that fed it. "Why not?" she parroted back at him.

"Eames, either you love me or you don't. There's no halfway. This time it is black and white; there are no shades of gray. But love me or not, I have a right to know how you feel. If you don't love me, then just tell me. I've prepared myself for it."

"You don't get to tell me how I feel, Goren."

"Then tell me yourself how you feel! I can't project anything onto you if I know what you're feeling."

She hit him on the shoulder again. "I told you, it's not that damn simple. Would you _listen_ to me?"

She was tempted to let him turn his back on her and walk away, but she realized that if she let him do that, he was going to walk out of her life. For him, it _was_ an all-or-nothing scenario. It had to be, if he was going to survive it. That was something he could not do halfway, or it would eat at him forever. By crossing the line from partners to lovers, he was casting the dice of fate. He could never go back again. And he was sincere when he told her that if he'd realized that at the beginning, he never would have let it happen at all. He could manage the partnership, the friendship, they'd had before. He'd done that for over eight years. He could also manage the relationship, the intimacy, they had now and still maintain the partnership. He had proven that. But he couldn't take a step backwards and simply be partners once again. It wouldn't work, and they both knew it.

"If you stop hitting me, I'll listen," he promised.

"Sit down."

He hesitated, still angry, but he did what she asked. In the end, he always did what she asked. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he waited.

She stepped in front of him, placed her hands on his shoulders and asked a question to which she already knew the answer. "Have you ever invested yourself into a relationship, truly opened yourself to the joys and the sorrows of totally loving another person?"

He shook his head. "Not until you."

"When we first became partners, I was still a new widow. I still felt my loss every single night when I went home to an empty bed. I still cried myself to sleep every night because he was gone. It took years before I was able to move past that, and I still had days when I couldn't bear to go home and be there without him. He's been gone for ten years, and for ten years, I have been trying to find my way in life. Bobby, I loved Joe. I know I did. When I lost him, I lost everything. The light in my soul was extinguished. Then, six months ago, something profound happened to me when our relationship changed. What I feel for you is different but it's real, and it's wonderful, and I just don't know what the hell to call it. I don't know if it's love. Maybe it is. Whatever it is, it's a great feeling. I feel...liberated. I can go home now and not feel so empty and lost. I can look at his picture and remember feeling happy. With you, I've found my way. You've reignited that light in my soul. When I'm with you, I can be happy again. I _am_ happy again. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

He was quiet for a long time as he studied her face and digested her words. She was sincere. She wasn't just telling him what he wanted to hear or something that she hoped would make him stay. His anger receded as quickly as it had been raised. Never in his life had he known such passion and he was as reluctant to lose it as she was, but it had to be backed by something stronger than desire or it would become a catastrophe. What she was describing to him, whether she knew what to call it or not, mirrored what he felt for her, and he called that love. Finally, he placed his hands on her hips and said, "Alex, if you're looking for what you had with Joe, you're going to be looking forever. You will never feel that again. What you have to look for is a new kind of happiness, a different kind of love. What you felt for Joe was unique to you and Joe. You have to let that go and let it be what it was. It can only live in your heart and in your memories. I will never be Joe."

His words struck her like a physical blow and she stepped back away from him. All these years that was exactly what she had been doing. She'd been looking for Joe, but Joe was lost to her. Reluctant to leave him behind, she had never truly moved on.

She stepped back and covered her mouth with her hands as realization bloomed within her. He wasn't Joe, and he never would be, but he had something unique and all his own. He was Bobby. He was kind and patient and...and she _loved_ him. The walls came tumbling down around her and she rushed forward again, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight.

In that one act, she took that step forward into the chasm, leaving Joe behind once and for all and embracing the joys and frustrations of a life with Goren. Given a final ultimatum of choosing Joe or Goren, she left Joe behind, in the past where he belonged, and fully embraced a future with Goren.

Surprised, he slipped his arms around her in a tentative embrace, not sure exactly what her sudden hug meant. He'd gone from hurt to angry to hopeful to confused all in the span of less than an hour, and he still had no idea where he stood with her. She was driving him crazy. But he turned his head toward her and gently kissed her neck. God help him, he still loved her. He always would.

"I've been unfair to you," she murmured against his shoulder. "I've been so unfair, and yet, you're still here."

"Where else am I gonna go? I tried to leave and you wouldn't let me. I don't know what the right thing to do is anymore, Alex."

He didn't know what to feel. She pulled back a little and looked into his face, her eyes bright with tears. "Do you love me?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "I love you."

She smiled. "Thank you for being so stubborn and patient and so...so _you_," she replied. "I love you, too."

The first time she'd said that, he was sure she hadn't meant it. But this time, this time, he knew she did. He saw it in her eyes. With that one declaration of love, the whole game changed. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She responded with a passion he'd never felt from her before, and any lingering doubts slipped away soundlessly.

She didn't know what was different, but something changed in the way he loved her. He was less aggressive but somehow more intense. While he rarely rushed through the act to the finish, he took the time to savor her, to etch the night into his memory and save it to revisit later. Over the past six months, he'd loved her, well and often, but that night was the start of something new and wonderful between them. The underlying current of tension she had never noticed before announced itself to her through its absence. He was relaxed and animated, and he took her on a ride she'd never forget with a promise of more to come.


	15. Poke the Tiger

Logan entered the bar and looked around casually. The place looked a lot like the bar that Goren frequented at home—rustic, lots of wood, nice place. He stepped up to the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him. While he waited, he watched.

The bartender was a muscular man in his forties, with close-cropped dark hair, a mustache and a winning smile. He had intelligent, dark eyes that didn't seem to miss anything. When he stopped in front of Logan, he grinned and said, "What can I get for you?"

"Scotch and soda."

"Coming right up."

"Are you Larry?"

"Sure am. Do I know you?"

"Nah, but I think you knew my girlfriend, Cassie. Pretty brunette, was in here Friday night."

Larry frowned as he placed a drink on the bar between them. "The one who got killed?"

Logan took a drink and made an effort to project both anger and grief. "Yeah. That's her. I found out she was in here that night with a guy."

"Yeah. Big guy, a cop. Comes in here pretty often, but he's not a big talker. He's a brooder. The more he drinks, the quieter he gets, but he doesn't cause any trouble."

Logan understood that. When Goren was upset, he turned into himself, and he'd never been happy about being sent to Washington. He'd never chased glory, just criminals. He never looked for attention. He just wanted to be left alone to get the bad guys. "Was he hitting on her?"

"Seemed to me, she was hitting on him. She's the only woman I've seen him with since he started coming here. He was friendly and he flirted with her, but he didn't leave with her. He left alone, and then she left about an hour later. She was talking to someone just outside and then she was gone."

"Did you see who she was talking to out there?"

"I got a glimpse of him, but that's it."

"You think it was that cop?"

"No. The second guy wasn't as big, and he was dressed differently. The cop usually wears jeans and a black t-shirt when he comes in, and that's what he was wearing that night. The other guy wore slacks and a red polo. He had a mustache, too. It wasn't the same guy."

Logan frowned. "Is that what you told the cops?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Cause that's not what they told me. They said you thought it might be the same guy."

"Like hell I did. It wasn't the same guy and that's what I told them."

"Maybe they misunderstood."

"I don't see how. I told them there was no way it was the same guy."

Logan finished off his drink and motioned for another. "So I don't gotta go gunning for this guy the cops have?"

"If it's the big cop that spent the evening with her, no. From what I saw, he was a gentleman. He paid for her drinks and he flirted with her, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it."

"Yeah? How?"

He placed a fresh drink in front of Logan. "Buddy, when you been tending bar as long as I have, you can tell when a guy is coming on to a chick. He wasn't. My guess is he has a girl who was someplace else that night and he was either mad at her or bored and lonely. He wasn't serious about your gal. I was standing close-by when he turned her down. He was gentle, but firm. He wasn't looking for the same thing she was."

"Oh? What was she looking for?"

"Trouble. I'm real sorry about your loss, but I guarantee you were the last guy on her mind that night. She wanted to get laid, and she wanted that cop she was with to be the one, but when he turned her down, she went cruising again."

Logan took a long drink, then set down his empty glass and laid a twenty beside it. "Thanks for the info, Larry."

As he got off the stool, Larry leaned on the bar. "Hey."

Logan looked at him. "Yeah?"

"She wasn't really your girl, was she?"

Logan studied him for a moment before he shook his head. "I never met her."

"So why the third degree?"

"Because that big cop she was with is my buddy, and he's getting railroaded for something he didn't do. I fed you that line because I wanted the truth from you. I didn't want you defensive."

Larry considered what he said. "So how close to the mark was I?"

"About him not looking for a roll in the hay? You were dead on. He's only here on loan from NYPD. He has a girl back home that he's crazy about, but that night he was hurt—and bored and lonely. He was looking for a distraction, but he doesn't have it in him to be unfaithful, not to her."

"Then she's a lucky girl. I see unfaithful all the damn time. If they're looking at him for that woman's murder, they're looking in the wrong place. This old bartender's intuition tells me he's no killer, which means there's a killer out there that they ain't lookin' for."

"That's exactly what we're thinking, which is why I'm looking into this on my own right now."

Larry gave him a sly smile. "I had you pegged as a cop when you came in the door."

Logan laughed. He liked this guy. "Retired cop."

"Well, good luck to you. I wish your buddy well. He comes in here a couple of times a week and I appreciate that he doesn't cause any trouble. He's a drinker, but he's not a violent drunk."

"He's not a violent guy. Thanks for your help, Larry."

He stretched out his hand toward the bar and Larry shook it. Logan left the bar and went for a walk around the neighborhood, wondering what had happened to Cassie Morton after she left the bar and why the locals had chosen to zero in on Goren as a suspect. Goren wasn't really a trouble-maker, not intentionally, but he sure was a trouble-magnet. He believed what the bartender told him. Larry had no reason to lie to him, but what reason did the cops have to disbelieve him?

* * *

><p>The apartment was dark when Logan returned to it, but he had to talk to Goren. He didn't want to wait until morning. He went down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. Then he knocked a second time for good measure before opening the door and entering the room.<p>

The curtains were open and the light from the street spilled across the sleeping couple on the bed. Eames' head rested on her partner's bare chest and his arm was curled protectively around her. Her arm was draped across him. The blanket rested across his waist, then up along his side where it was tucked under her arms, covering her chest, which was also bare. They were comfortably entwined in each other's arms, and the room was silent except for the sound of Goren's deep, even breathing. Logan felt bad about waking him, but he still felt compelled to do so.

Stepping up to the bed, he gently jostled Goren's shoulder. "Hey, wake up. Bobby, wake up."

The rhythm of his breathing changed and he shifted his hips. Eames also shifted her position, moving her head to rest on Goren's shoulder, her hand splayed flat in the center of his chest. Logan jostled him again. "Wake up, Bobby. I gotta talk to you."

Goren's eyelids fluttered and he made a soft noise of protest. Raising his right arm, he rubbed his eye and yawned. "What the hell is it?"

"Listen to me, man. I went down to the bar and had a chat with the bartender there."

"Just how drunk are you?" Eames asked, her voice muffled by Goren's chest.

"What does that matter?"

"The drunker you are, the harder I'm going to hit you."

He chuckled and Goren smiled, tightening his arm around her. Logan answered, "I'm nowhere near as drunk as I get when I go out with your boyfriend here."

Eames raised her head and glared at him. "What's so damn important it can't wait for the sun?" she demanded.

"Scoot over," he said, slapping the back of his hand against Goren's hip.

Goren shifted without thinking about it, pressing most of his body against Eames. She didn't object, but she watched Logan warily. She never knew what he was going to do, and she wouldn't put it past him to climb into bed with them, just to get a rise out of her. She did, however, take advantage of the opportunity to slide her body partially onto her partner's, which he definitely appreciated. He stroked her back with his left hand while she caressed his side. Exhausted, he was ready to drift off again, but Logan's voice brought him back. "Did they actually let you read Larry's statement?"

His mind stumbled a bit. He wanted to focus on the woman in his bed, not the trouble that awaited him in the morning. "Uh, no. Why would they? I'm lucky they showed me the crime scene photos."

"Well, according to Larry the bartender, they're handing you a heaping helping of baloney. They said Larry told them that the guy he saw her talking to could have been you, right?"

"Yeah. And?"

"And he claims that's not what he said at all. He said that the guy he saw her with after you left was definitely not you. Unfortunately, he didn't get a good look at him and could only offer a vague description. So either the cops are grasping for straws and discounting evidence, or they have a reason to disbelieve Larry."

Goren gave that some thought, and so did Eames. "They won't arbitrarily discount evidence," he said with certainty. "But they can't build a case on a single statement, either."

"Maybe they're baiting you," Eames suggested. "There are no rules against lying to a suspect, and right now, that's what you are."

Goren recalled the statement he'd once made to Mike Stoat. _I'm allowed to lie to criminals._ He tightened his arm around Eames, taking comfort from the physical contact. She reached up to brush her lips across his cheek, which was just the reassurance he needed. He relaxed again.

"Okay, so let's review," Logan said. "Aside from Larry's statement, what do they have?"

"That's the problem," Eames said. "We don't know. They have spermicide residue from Cassie's body, which they can't tie to Bobby because they found no condoms here or in his car."

"They didn't find anything they can use here or in the car," Logan replied. "So the search warrant was a big bust...and that really pissed them off. Murphy throws an impressive tantrum. I'd love to hear his explanation for how his vehicle got a busted headlight and a fist-sized dent in the front quarter panel. He just _knew_ he was going to find something incriminating. He was sorely disappointed."

Goren softly sighed. "If they _are_ baiting me by feeding me a false statement, it's not going to get them anywhere. They may be counting on Lightman to give them ammunition, but if he's as good as I've heard he is, that will backfire on them as well."

Logan nodded. "Larry's statement really doesn't do much good either way. The last person he saw Cassie talking to was some other guy, but he can't prove she didn't hook up with you later. It does give grounds for reasonable doubt, though, if it comes to that."

"Their entire case is circumstantial," Goren said. "I spent the evening with her. I flirted with her and bought her a few drinks. Those are the only facts they have. I never saw her again, and I spent the rest of the night alone. Those are the facts they aren't interested in, but that's all there is."

"The other guy Larry saw," Eames said. "Did he give you a description?"

"For all the good it's worth. They were outside the bar when he saw her talking to him. All he could give me was a vague description of a guy he saw through the bar window. He wasn't as tall as Bobby. He had dark hair and a mustache, and he was wearing slacks and a red shirt."

Goren rested his head back on the pillow, and he let his mind return to that night, just a week ago, though it seemed longer. "Dark hair, mustache, red shirt..." he murmured to himself as he did a mental tour of the bar that night.

Granted, once he started interacting with Cassie, he had not had much interest in the rest of the bar patrons, but he remembered someone matching that description. No...he wasn't in the bar. Outside...that was it! "He was outside the bar when I left, maybe a half a block away. I remember passing him."

Eames placed her chin on her folded arm, resting on his chest, and she looked at his face in the dim light. "What do you remember?"

He closed his hand around her fingers to keep them still and he focused his attention on his memories of the man he'd passed on the street after leaving the bar that night. "He, uhm, he was about six inches shorter than me, and he was carrying a gym bag."

"What else?" she encouraged gently. "Something made him stand out in your mind."

He shifted his gaze to her and ran his fingers through her hair. She knew how his mind worked. She knew there was more to the memory. "His eyes," he finally said. "It was his eyes."

"What about them?"

"They were dead. There was no life, no emotion in them. Nothing. That's what I remember."

Logan nodded his head slowly. "Okay. So all we have to do is convince Harry-O and his partner to scour the 5-and-a-half million residents of the DC metro area for a guy with a mustache and dead eyes. Piece of cake."

Goren laughed softly. He always appreciated Logan's humor. Eames, on the other hand, was often annoyed by Logan's humor, but she appreciated that he could get Goren to laugh. Sometimes, he was the only one who could. She stretched along his body and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Goren's mouth. Softly, he promised, "We'll get him."

Logan believed him, and he was sure Eames did as well. For Goren, there was no other option. He watched as Goren brought his hands up to frame her face. He pushed his fingers through her hair again as he focused his attention on her, drawing her toward him for a kiss.

Logan smiled. "I see you two worked things out."

Eames drew back just far enough to speak. "Good night, Logan."

Logan laughed quietly, gently smacked Goren's side and got up. "Good night," he said affectionately and he left the room.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the station early. Turner and Decker were already there, waiting outside the building for them. Smoking a cigarette, Decker informed them, "Lightman will be here any minute. We told him eight, but he's always early."<p>

"Go on inside," Turner advised. "We don't want to give them any ammunition to use against you or to dismiss Lightman's findings as prejudicial."

They took Turner's advice and entered the precinct building. Gerrold greeted them. "You're here early," he said.

"No sense postponing the inevitable," Goren answered.

"Is there anything you want to say before we get started?"

Goren shook his head. "No. The truth will come out. It always does."

"Sooner or later," the captain agreed. "I'll show you to the interrogation room. Murphy and Sanchez will be here shortly."

They followed the captain to a different interrogation room than the one they'd used the day before. Goren looked at Logan, then at Eames. His gaze lingered on his partner, though not quite long enough to raise any suspicion that they were anything more than longtime partners. It was a game Goren played well, pushing the limits and daring anyone to call him on it. He had few takers.

Logan gave his shoulder a playful punch and Eames gently squeezed his hand. He offered what he hoped was a reassuring grin before entering the interrogation room. Gerrold brought him a cup of coffee and told him to sit tight.

In the observation room, Eames and Logan settled themselves into chairs near the wall across from the one-way glass. They were nervous, uncomfortable with the idea that Goren's future, his life, might rest with the ability of a man they'd never met to read what Goren wanted him to see. Even though he had done nothing wrong, there were plenty of people in jail for crimes they did not commit. Ross joined them about ten minutes later. "How was his night?"

Logan fielded that question as Eames looked away, hiding her reaction to her memories of the night before. "At least he got a little sleep."

Ross didn't need to know what had kept his friend up half the night, and he didn't press for details. "I'm sorry for what happened. I just want to help him."

Eames answered, "That wasn't completely your fault. He's very defensive right now."

"That's understandable. I imagine he thinks the world is against him. I'm glad the two of you are here. He needs allies, people he trusts."

The conversation ended when Turner and Decker arrived with two people in tow, a man and a woman. Turner introduced them as Cal Lightman and his partner, Gillian Foster. Murphy and Sanchez were right behind them. Once introductions had been made, Lightman looked through the glass at Goren. "So that's our boy?"

"That's him," Turner replied.

"A profiler who mentored under Declan Gage," Lightman mused, speaking to no one in particular. He turned suddenly and looked at Eames and Logan. "And you are?"

Eames gave him a detached look. "Alex Eames, his partner in New York."

Logan studied Lightman with reserve. "Mike Logan, NYPD retired. Goren's my friend."

Lightman arched an eyebrow. "You're not happy about this."

"What kind of friend would I be if I was?"

Lightman nodded, pleased. "You're cautious, suspicious of people." His gaze shifted to Eames. "Both of you are."

Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to the glass. "How many murders are you trying to pin on him?"

"Five," Murphy replied. "And we're not looking to pin anything on him. We're looking to convict him for what he did."

Lightman scrutinized him. "You're sure about that, are you? That he killed those women?"

"Someone killed those women. I'll bet my badge that it was him."

"That's quite a wager, detective. I would take you up on it, but I have no use for a badge."

"Already made up your mind?"

"You have."

"We have evidence."

"Evidence that's weak as water. What do you actually have? A fingerprint on the face of her watch—he'd been flirting with her and drinking. It's perfectly reasonable to expect something like that. You have his card in her pocket. Again, it proves nothing. I have business cards all over the city. That doesn't mean I killed someone who has one. Besides, knowing he gave her his card, if he killed her I would wager the first thing he'd do is get it back."

"He was drinking," Murphy asserted.

"Drunk or sober, I believe this man is a force to be reckoned with. My point is all your evidence is circumstantial and can be explained away to raise reasonable doubt by any first year law student. Your case is built on quicksand, detective."

"We have a witness."

"Someone who saw him kill her?"

"Someone who saw him with her."

"Then you have nothing."

He turned to the glass again and studied Goren. After a few minutes, he looked at Foster. "He's going to be a hard read. Feel up to the challenge, love?"

"I can handle him," she assured him.

He smiled. "That's my girl. But first, I want to rattle his cage a bit." He turned to the homicide detectives who had been joined by their captain and another man who was introduced as Matthew Cartwright, the ADA assigned to the case, which had already been presented to the DA, however premature. Lightman went on. "Rape is not usually a crime of passion. It's about power, and seeing photos of their handiwork is arousing and stimulating. They really get off on it. Let's see what this man does."

"We got a reaction on the crime scene pictures we showed him of the last victim," Murphy said. "That's the only one he's seen."

"What kind of reaction?"

"He closed his eyes for a moment."

Lightman waited, expecting more. "That's it? That's not the kind of reaction we're looking for, detective. Any decent human being would have that reaction. How long ago was the first murder?"

"Six weeks. There's been one every week since then, until this week."

"Perhaps the body just hasn't been found yet. Were all of them raped and then murdered?"

"Yes. They all follow the same MO. First drinks, then sex, then good night, sweetheart. It's lights out forever."

"You're certain the sex isn't consensual?"

"The ME says it's not likely, considering the amount of bruising and tearing."

"Defensive wounds?"

"Only on one, the second one."

"All right, detectives. Poke the tiger with a big stick. Show him photos of all five victims, _in situ_. If this was his work, he'll give himself away."

"Are you sure about that?" Murphy asked, suspicious.

"I guarantee it. It will be an unconscious tell, but Dr. Foster and I will see it."

Eames and Logan exchanged a look. They knew Goren was innocent, but he also had a tendency to connect with victims, to own their crimes until he found the true culprit. Would Lightman and Foster misinterpret that if they saw it?

Lightman and Foster stood to one side of the glass, watching the detectives enter the room. Eames, Logan and Decker stood on the other side, also watching. Ross stood between the two groups with Gerrold, Turner and the ADA. Goren looked up when Murphy and Sanchez joined him. His brow furrowed slightly.

Lightman's arms were crossed in front of him, with one hand against his mouth. He motioned at the glass. "He's suspicious."

"Do you blame him?" Eames asked.

"Not at all, love. It's an appropriate response."

The two detectives sat across from Goren, and Murphy placed the folder he was carrying on the table. "We want to show you something, Romeo."

He opened the folder and flipped out a picture of the most recent victim, the one Goren knew. "Cassie Morton."

Goren looked at the photo again, and he couldn't completely control his reaction. The last time he'd seen Cassie Morton, she was drunk, aroused and totally into him. She was animated and sexy and pushing hard to get him to take her to bed, which he would have happily done had he not already committed himself to another woman. He never found out what was going on in her life to push her into picking up a stranger for sex, but he got the impression it was not something she did regularly. She did not deserve to die like she had; no woman did. He felt bile and rage creep up the back of his throat. Murphy flipped down another photo. "Stephanie Regan."

Goren examined the picture with the interest of a trained investigator, one who took to heart every victim in every case he worked, but there was no spark of recognition in him. He had never seen her before. His reaction was the same for the next two victims, Kelly Farragut and Tammy Devlin. The last photo, however, caught him entirely off guard when Murphy said, "Maggie Coulter."

His entire demeanor changed and he reached out to slide the picture closer. "No," he whispered.

In the interrogation room, Eames had a similar reaction. She placed her hand against the glass. "Oh, God," she whispered. "No."

Goren looked up at the mirror as though he'd heard her. He was definitely seeking her out and was frustrated that she was separated from him by the one-way glass.

Lightman looked from one detective to the other. "Now that's interesting."

"I have to see him," Eames insisted, starting toward the door. "I need to get in there."

Ross gently grabbed her arm as Lightman moved to her other side. "Who was that woman?" Lightman asked.

"He didn't kill her."

"I'm not saying he did, but he definitely knew her."

Try as she might, she could not keep her eyes from welling with tears. The avalanche of emotion that came with the familiar name leaving Murphy's lips was difficult to control. "She was a victim, about seven years ago. Her father borrowed money from a loan shark and when the loan came due, he couldn't pay, so they took Maggie, her mother and her little sister. One of the kidnappers, a Serbian monster, raped Maggie, repeatedly. It was a difficult case. She developed Stockholm Syndrome and defended the bastard who'd hurt her, but Goren got her past that. I need to talk to him."

Gerrold rapped on the glass, calling his detectives from the room. "Two minutes, Detective Eames. You can have two minutes."

Murphy watched her hurry past him as he and Sanchez joined the others in the observation room. "She's in a hurry," he commented before focusing his attention on his captain. "Well, captain? We definitely got a rise out of him, especially on that last one."

"That wasn't the rise we'd get from a gloating rapist," Lightman replied. "There was no sign of arousal or pride in his handiwork. His reactions definitely did not say 'I did that.'"

Without turning from the glass as she watched the partners in the next room, Foster added, "We saw the interest one might expect from a career cop looking at any crime scene photos, and the anger and revulsion any decent person might experience when seeing the results of a violent attack. But there was no recognition. He'd never seen those images before."

"So maybe he left 'em before they died," Murphy suggested.

Gerrold arched his brow. "You're stretching it, Murphy. Serial killers don't leave behind witnesses."

Lightman nodded in agreement. "Whoever did this stayed for the whole show. It's part of his compulsion, to watch his victims die so he can recall the images later."

Cartwright joined the conversation. "I am still not convinced he's not the killer. As long as I can sell him to a jury, that's what I plan to do-unless we find hard evidence to the contrary."

"Does it matter that he's innocent?" Decker asked.

"No one has proven that to me. It's not my job to care if he's guilty or innocent. It's my job to convict him and that's what I plan to do."

Lightman looked at him with disdain. "Are you absolutely sure about that, counselor? Because I can refute all your evidence and raise enough reasonable doubt to get him acquitted, and so will his attorney."

Logan was furious. "He hasn't been arrested or accused," he reminded the lawyer.

"That's just a matter of time," Cartwright assured him, ignoring Lightman.

"You agreed to allow Dr. Lightman to evaluate him and offer his opinion," Gerrold said reasonably.

"I did, and I will decide how to use his evaluation. If I don't agree with his results, I won't use his report. If the defense finds out about it, which they likely will, I can debunk his pseudoscience."

"Pseudoscience?" Lightman repeated back to him. "So it's legitimate when you get the answer you want and bunk when you don't?"

"It's a matter of interpretation, Dr. Lightman, and that is what I will refute: your interpretation."

"And you're a prick," he replied as he turned his attention back to the interrogation room to watch the partners, as Foster had been doing since Eames went into the room. "Refute _that_."

* * *

><p>Eames entered the room and grabbed a chair, pulling it around so she could sit beside her partner. "Bobby? Are you okay?"<p>

He lifted his shoulder in an imitation of a shrug as he tried not to show the depths to which he was shaken. "I don't know."

"I'll find out what I can," she said gently. "We might not like the answers, though."

"Everyone finds their peace a different way, Eames. It's not for us to judge her for the way she found hers, if she ever did. Some people...never find their way."

She knew that he spoke from experience. He was still trying to find his own way in a world that had never been kind. She rested her hand on his arm, watching as he looked down at it. Softly, she said, "Maybe she did find her way. Maybe she was building a life here. I'll find out."

He nodded, turning his head so he could look at her. Silence stretched between them but words were not necessary. They connected on a level that needed no words. It was that connection that he needed from her. Her grip on his arm tightened, and he wanted desperately to reach out to her, but he couldn't, not then, not there.

The door opened, admitting Murphy and Sanchez again. Murphy shifted impatiently. "That's my cue to leave," she said, removing her hand from his arm. "Hang in there," she whispered. "I won't be far."

He nodded, watching her walk away. When she got to the door, she stopped and turned. She met his eyes and said, "You can't save everyone."

"No," he agreed. "But I can try."

She smiled softly, knowing that he would never stop trying, never stop believing that he could save each and every lost soul. It never mattered to him that his soul was just as lost. Saving _him_ was her job. She left the room.


	16. Through Her Eyes

When Eames returned to the observation room, Lightman asked, "Can you tell when he's lying?"

"Not always."

"How 'bout now?"

"I don't know if I'm the person to ask because I'm partial, but I don't think he's lying. This is big. He has a very well-developed sense of guilt and a very strict moral code. I honestly don't think he could live with himself if he'd done this." She paused. "As a cop, he's had many chances to take a life. I've been his partner for over eight years, and every time, he chooses to use his words instead of his weapon. With a gun pointed at his face, he still chooses words. He's not a power-seeker. He doesn't get off on that. At the end of the day, his goal is to see that the guilty get punished and the innocent get justice. He works hard to reach that goal, Dr. Lightman. In my wildest dreams, I can not see him taking a life. Not like this. Not an innocent life."

Lightman turned to Foster. "Keep an eye on that one, love. I'm gonna have a chat with this one."

Foster nodded and Lightman took Eames by the arm. "Come on, darlin'. Let's have a walk, shall we?"

Eames looked through the window at her partner, once more being grilled by the homicide detectives. "He'll be okay," Lightman said.

Ross was not surprised by Eames' reluctance to leave. He had seen firsthand her protectiveness of her partner.

Logan reached out and gently squeezed her arm. The only way Lightman could get some of the insight he needed to read Goren, to know that he hadn't killed anyone, would be by developing some kind of rapport with Eames. From behind her, he leaned in and said, "Go on. I'll be right here. He'll be fine."

She looked over her shoulder at him. As often as he irritated her, she trusted him with her partner. Logan had earned that trust by proving himself a steadfast friend. Finally, she gave in and went with Lightman. They left the observation room and headed out of the precinct house.

* * *

><p>Lightman led her away from the building. "Tell me about him."<p>

"What do you mean?"

"You know him well. I need to know him better. I need to know what makes him tick." When she didn't say anything, he prodded, "Tell me about him and Declan Gage."

Goren had tried hard to sell Gage to her, without success. While she appreciated Gage's role in bringing Goren firmly to the side of the law, she didn't like the man or the other things he had done. Her partner had been unable to change her mind about that. After Frank's murder, orchestrated by Gage, he had stopped trying.

She had to remind herself that Lightman wanted to help her partner. After another long pause, she said, "He was mentored by Gage when he was in the Army CID, in South Korea, during the Sebastian murders. He once told me if it had not been for Gage, he might never have become a cop. His childhood was one that often spawns criminals. When he met Gage, he still could have gone either way. Because of Gage, he found his way to the high road."

"What was it about his childhood that makes you say that?"

She didn't answer right away. Knowing how very private her partner could be—unless he was trying to connect with a suspect, and then all bets were off, she hesitated to say anything more about his past. "Maybe you should be talking to Mike Logan. Mike understands him in a way I never can. They come from similar backgrounds and they have bonded over that."

"I want to hear about him from you first. I want to see him through _your_ eyes."

Where to start? She did want Lightman to know the background he had gotten past and the good man he had become despite having the cards stacked against him from the start. That could only play in Goren's favor. But how could she discuss him with this man, a man trained to read people, without disclosing the recent turn their relationship had taken? She began by focusing on the past. "His mother was schizophrenic and his father was a gambler and a womanizer. His father would come home at night, smelling of booze and women, and his parents would fight. He was often abused at the hands of both parents. I've seen his scars, but he won't discuss them with me."

Lightman's interest in Goren was piqued further. Could the man be a natural? "He has scars on his body _and_ his soul, I'll wager. It's something he doesn't want to touch you. Go on."

"He had only one sibling, a brother three years older than him. His brother was the favored one, with a life full of promise until he turned to drugs and became a junkie. He died last year. His mother died the year before."

"And his father?"

"Which one?"

"Excuse me?"

"The man who raised him died years ago, before I knew him. The man who fathered him died the night his mother died, lethal injection by the state of Pennsylvania."

Lightman's expression reflected surprise and interest. "His father was on death row?"

She nodded. "Mark Ford Brady. Bobby has lived his life struggling not to be like his parents. He didn't know about his paternity until after Brady was dead."

A brilliant profiler, a crusader for justice, the son of Mark Ford Brady. Goren just got better and better to him. "Paternity test?"

She nodded. "He just had to know. He can't leave any question unanswered."

"An insatiable quest for knowledge. Is he a bright one?"

"Brilliant. A genius-level IQ. I don't think he's ever forgotten anything he's learned. He's a walking encyclopedia."

"And you love him."

She started unconsciously but remained silent, unwilling to out their relationship to anyone, except Logan, who had become the brother Goren had always deserved. Of course Turner had figured it out, and maybe Decker, but Lightman was different. She didn't know yet whether Lightman was a friend or an enemy, but he was someone of whom to be wary.

Lightman touched her arm. "Oh, don't worry, love. You hide it well. I see it because I know what I'm looking at. The signs are very subtle. Do you feel close to him?"

"Very close, and believe me, it was not an easy job, getting close to him. What I feel for him is something that was borne out of spending fourteen and sixteen hours a day with him, five or six, sometimes seven days a week. It grew out of annoyance and frustration into respect and love. It's hard to explain."

"No need to explain. I understand completely. Are you lovers yet?"

Again she didn't answer, though she sensed that Lightman knew. He leaned forward as they walked to look at her face. "It's okay, love," he assured her. "When did it start?"

She could see similarities between Goren and Lightman, but Goren knew his place with her. He had learned to respect her personal space unless she invited him in...well mostly, he did. Sometimes, in his excitement over something, he would forget and crowd her. Gentle reminders were often enough to set him back with an endearing, apologetic grin on his face. "About six months ago."

"Good. Good for both of you. I'll keep it out of my reports. That's not something anyone else needs to know."

"Thank you, Dr. Lightman."

"No, thank you for being candid with me. It will only help. I can read emotions but not what drives them. I can't always tell the why."

"It's the why that my partner has to understand. Solving crimes isn't enough of a challenge for him. He has to get into their heads and understand the why that motivated them. He reads microexpressions, and then has to figure out what put them there."

Lightman was very interested. "He reads microexpressions?"

She nodded. "He's tried to teach me time and again, and it always ends up with him laughing his ass off and me telling him...to go stuff himself."

He laughed. "He sounds like someone I would like to get to know, assuming this all works out for him."

"Dr. Lightman, Goren didn't kill anyone. He doesn't have it in him. He just doesn't."

The words were out before she could stop them, and then she hated that she'd sounded so...desperate. But that's exactly what she was: desperate to save the man she now freely admitted to loving. Finally knowing her heart, she saw his predicament as a threat to the security that would come with the love she felt, the love he returned to her.

Lightman stopped and turned to face her. "Let me tell you this much: my initial impression is that he is innocent. He doesn't act like a guilty man. I will do everything I can do to help him. You have my word. This apple apparently fell so far from the tree, it's in a different orchard."

"What do you mean?"

"He was very right when he told you that upbringings such as his are breeding grounds for psychopathic killers and sociopaths. He dodged that bullet by some amazing quirk of luck."

"He'd never call it luck. He worked hard to distance himself from what he could have become, and yet...he didn't. He can get into their heads, Dr. Lightman. That's how he gets to the why of a crime. He can put himself in their places. I worry about him. I'm afraid one day he'll go so far into one of them, he won't come back."

Lightman understood the burdens of bearing genius in a world of normal people. He also understood the trials of living with an eye gifted for reading people. But being able to get into people's heads, to understand what drove them, the motivations that changed the course of their lives? That was a gift with which he had never been graced. "Let's head back to see what kind of progress, or rather lack of progress, the good detectives have made."

"What makes you say that?"

"What do they say? You can't get blood from a stone? It can be equally difficult to extract a confession from an innocent man, especially one who understands how the game is played."

Eames smiled affectionately. "I have never known anyone who plays the game better."

Lightman's interest in Goren continued to increase, and he was anxious to get back to the station. Fortunately for Eames, she had plenty of experience in keeping up with Goren, even though he often made a conscious effort to slow his gait to accommodate her. Lightman made no such effort, and her experience served her well.

* * *

><p>Back in the observation room, Eames returned to her place near Logan, and Lightman stepped up to Foster. She shook her head. "He's shutting down. He's not going to talk to them any more."<p>

Lightman nodded. "You might say they've overstayed their welcome."

"That first victim, Maggie Coulter—she did him in. He hasn't given them any more."

"So what do you suggest?" Ross asked.

Foster said, "Let me talk to him...but on my terms. I want to interview him at our office, not here."

Lightman nodded. "I agree. Our dance card, our venue."

Gerrold had stepped back from the case to observe. Murphy hated being wrong so he was trying extra hard to trip Goren up and get him to confess. But did the man have anything to confess? Gerrold was beginning to think that Murphy and Sanchez were barking up the wrong tree. He wasn't a profiler, but he had seen enough psychopaths and sociopaths in his career to have a pretty good sense of how they presented themselves. This cop appeared to be neither. And his shock at seeing the crime scene photos, especially of the Coulter victim, was genuine. Perhaps he really was caught up in the sweeping tide of their investigation, an innocent man in the wrong place at the wrong time. Murphy was a pit bull who dug in and did not let go and that had always served him well in the past. He had an impressive skill for sniffing out the bad guys, and he hated to let one go once he had him in his sights. Something about Goren had set him off. Maybe it was simply the idea of a cop gone bad, a black eye to the uniform every cop wore. But was this man really a cop gone bad? Gerrold was not convinced. To his mind, the guy deserved the chance for Lightman and his people to evaluate him. "He's not in custody, Dr. Lightman, so he's free to go wherever he wants. But I would like to observe your interview."

"Have it your way," Lightman agreed.

Gerrold rapped on the glass to end the interrogation so Goren could go with Lightman and Foster. He couldn't wait to see them in action.

* * *

><p>Murphy was furious. He had just begun to discuss the Coulter girl, and that definitely got a rise out of Goren, but he hadn't taken the bait. Murphy could tell he was getting agitated by the way he sat up a little straighter and fisted his hands. He practically dared Goren to take a swing at him, but the man remained where he was, still in control. If Gerrold had let him keep pushing, he might have finally gotten somewhere.<p>

He stormed from the interrogation room, followed by his more docile partner. Sanchez was a watcher with a good eye. Murphy pushed the buttons and Sanchez let him know when he hit the chord. They both knew that the Coulter girl was the path to confession for this one.

He practically exploded into the crowded interrogation room. "What now?" he demanded of his captain.

Gerrold was used to Murphy's Irish temper, but he could not risk turning a bad face to their visitors. His expression turned stormy. "Back off now," he told his detective in a tone that left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Murphy deflated. He was still furious, but he pulled back from turning his anger onto his captain. He didn't need another mark in his jacket.

"You're done for now," Gerrold said. "He's going to go with Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster, to be interviewed at their office. We can watch, but you are not to interfere. Understand?"

Murphy nodded, stewing in silence, while the ADA stepped away from the glass. Cartwright was a small man but he carried himself with a huge presence. "I will be awaiting your report, Dr. Lightman. I am due in court, so I will trust Captain Gerrold to be my eyes and ears during your interview." He looked at Gerrold. "I will talk to you later, Captain."

Gerrold nodded. Once the ADA was gone, the room seemed much less crowded. The walls seemed to sigh with relief. They had seen that man in action many times. He was formidable.

Ross had been watching Murphy, and he waited for the right time to speak. His years of dealing with Logan, and more recently Logan's interim partner Falacci, had given him the necessary skill set to handle Murphy. Once the detective had calmed and his ruffled feathers had somewhat settled, Ross made his way unobtrusively to the detective's side.

"You seem to have it in for my detective," he said, forcing a casual note into his tone.

Murphy looked at him. "We go where the evidence takes us," he said, his tone guarded.

"The thing with evidence is that it's often subject to interpretation."

"Well, captain, our interpretation of the evidence tells us he did it."

Ross looked at him steadily. "Only because you have already tried and convicted him in your minds. You're no longer looking at the evidence with open eyes, just closed minds. You are trying to make the evidence fit your conclusions rather than allowing it to lead you where it will."

Murphy bristled at the accusation. "You ever get a feeling in your gut, captain? A feeling that just tells you that you've got the right guy?"

"Yes, and I've been wrong. It's a bitter pill to swallow. I've also allowed my personal opinions for someone to cloud my judgment. Looking in from the outside, from everything you've shown us and everything I've heard, I see nothing to justify your vendetta."

Murphy faced off against Ross. "I have five victims crying for justice, Captain Ross."

Ross didn't back down. "I understand that, but their voices will only cry louder if you get the wrong guy. Making an arrest, and even getting a conviction, is not justice if the real killer gets away. All that will come of that is more bodies of victims you could have saved. You will also have the blood of an innocent man on your hands because cops don't fare well in prison. Not cops like Goren. You still have a killer out there, detective, and he is going to kill again while you are wasting your time with an innocent man."

Murphy glared at him for a long moment. He barely took reprimands from his own captain. This one from out of town had no business telling him his job. But there was something in his words that gave Murphy pause. He turned on his heel and left the room with his partner a few paces behind him.


	17. A Softer Touch

On the sidewalk outside the precinct, Ross gathered with Logan and Eames. Logan said, "I talked to the bartender last night."

Ross frowned at him. He hated surprises. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"I didn't have a chance. This isn't our case, captain. I don't answer to you on this one. Actually, I don't answer to you at all any more."

Ross sighed impatiently while they walked toward their cars. Eames was equally impatient, though not with Logan. Goren had gone with Foster and Lightman and she was anxious to be where he was.

Logan motioned toward the building as they walked past it. "They flat out lied to him, I guess hoping it would trip him up and get him to admit something. They don't know that he's smarter than that. That bartender never told them he saw her with _him_ outside the bar. He did see her with someone, but he said it definitely wasn't Goren. She hit the bar for another hour after he left, then she hooked up with another guy outside the bar. Goren was long gone by then. When I gave him the description I got from Larry, Goren said he remembered passing the guy on the street after he left the bar, and the bartender didn't say he came into the bar, so he must've waited outside until Cassie left. By then, she'd have been drunk enough to focus only on getting what she wanted. Her common sense would have been long gone by that point."

"So they're focusing on Goren because they found his card in her pocket?"

"That must be what made him pop up on their radar," Logan agreed.

Eames added, "And when he kept coming up in their investigation, he became their focus."

Logan nodded. "Unfortunately for them, it's all circumstantial. It will never hold up in court."

"Stranger things have happened in courtrooms," Ross answered. "They're desperate to nail someone for the murders because the press is roasting them and the mayor is giving them hell. They're getting a ton of heat. We know how that goes."

"We do," Eames agreed, waving her hand impatiently. "But we look for a way to develop an airtight case, and this one is full of holes."

"Holes big enough to drive a truck through," Logan said with a nod. "Carver would never even consider prosecuting a case like this one. It's too iffy."

"Let's just take my car," Ross offered as they got to his rental vehicle. "I'll bring you back for yours later."

Logan was quiet as he opened the front passenger door for Eames. She gave him a grateful look and touched his arm as she slid into the car. He climbed into the back seat. "I also had a talk with Decker, his FBI partner. He is focusing on finding the actual perp. That's the only way suspicion is going to completely fall away from Goren. He's got his ears out for another crime scene because he knows they have the wrong man—and the right man isn't done yet. I told him to give us a holler if the bastard strikes again. I want to see a fresh crime scene. I want to find whatever these cops are missing. No one leaves behind a sterile crime scene."

"I agree," Ross said as he pulled away from the curb. Eames had the directions to the Lightman Group's offices and she told him where to make the first turn. "What's your take on Lightman?" he asked her.

"His first impression is that Goren didn't do it. He'd never seen those women before, except for Maggie Coulter and that was seven years ago."

Logan said, "I don't know if anything is going to kick Murphy off Goren's ass. He's a shark and he smells blood in the water. He doesn't give a damn whose blood it is. He grabbed onto the first thing to swim by and he's not gonna let go, not until he gets hit in the face with something really hard."

Ross looked at him in the rearview mirror. "We have to do this right if Goren is going to walk away unscathed."

"I know, I know. I'm behaving."

Eames smiled to herself. For a change, he was right. He knew the stakes and there was no way he was going to do anything to jeopardize his friend. For once, she was glad to have him close. Goren needed him, and so did she.

* * *

><p>Goren was shown to a room within a room. The detectives remained with him, watching and waiting for him to step out of line. He had no idea what they expected him to do. He had shown no tendency toward violence and he wasn't inclined to try walking away from Lightman and his people. He was far too interested, intrigued by what was going on. Having read Cal Lightman's book, he wondered what his people would see in him. He knew that whoever came into the room to question him would not be alone; there would be many more eyes watching from the room beyond. He was unable to see beyond the stark white walls—but he had no doubt those in the outer room could see in.<p>

Ignoring Murphy and Sanchez, he walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, gently rubbing his hand over the smooth surface. It was a step beyond one-way glass. His mind spun with the possibilities of working with an interrogation room of that caliber.

In the outer room, Eames and Logan arrived with Ross. Eli Loker, who had brought them to the room, waved his hand broadly. "Make yourselves comfortable," he said. "Your friend will be questioned up there, in that cubicle. We can see in, but all he sees are white walls." He pointed to a bank of electronic equipment. "Everything will be recorded over there and we'll review the tapes afterwards. We won't miss anything."

"You're not staying for the show?" Logan asked.

Loker shook his head. "Lightman wants us to review it later with fresh eyes. For some reason, this particular suspect is important to him and to Foster. I don't try to figure him out."

He turned and walked away. Logan and Eames looked at each other. "He seems just a little bitter," Logan commented.

From behind him, Foster replied, "He's had a difficult history with Cal."

Eames looked at her. "Is he right? About Goren being important to you and Lightman?"

"He shouldn't have told you that."

"But is he right?"

"We can talk about it later."

She walked away, stopping to talk to Lightman before she climbed the steps to enter the interrogation room. Eames and Logan moved to stand by Lightman, joined by Ross, Gerrold and the two FBI agents.

* * *

><p>Goren turned from his examination of the wall when the door opened. He was surprised to see Foster instead of Lightman, but only for a few seconds. He understood their tactics; he and Eames often did the same thing. One of them did the questioning while the other watched for weaknesses they could exploit. He walked to the table in the center of the cubicle, and he sat down, but he kept his eyes on her the entire time.<p>

Foster looked at Murphy and Sanchez. "You can leave," she said firmly.

The detectives exchanged looks, then Murphy glared at Goren. "If you hurt this lady, I'll make you _wish_ you were dead."

Goren frowned. He wasn't sure where Murphy's threat came from, finally concluding that the man was simply posturing. Lightman had taken the wind from his sails in moving the questioning to a less threatening environment and removing the police from the equation, at least for the time being. For some reason, Murphy felt threatened by that. When he did not react to Murphy's threat, the two detectives left the interview room.

Once they were gone, Foster sat down opposite Goren, who continued to watch her with interest. After observing Goren with the two detectives, Lightman concluded that he would likely respond better to a softer touch. Questioning by a woman would be much more effective, and he would be less likely to shut down the way he had with Murphy and Sanchez. Torres, his crackerjack natural, while attractive, had a hard edge and was often unable to control her emotions. Her confrontational approach would not be effective; Goren would never open up to her. She also lacked the experience to handle a man like him. Foster was just the right kind of soft and intelligent to which Goren would respond.

She gave him a soft smile. "I'm Dr. Gillian Foster of The Lightman Group."

Goren studied her. He was ready to play ball. While she analyzed him, he analyzed her right back. "You're trying to gain my trust. That's why you had them leave the room."

She could not forget that he was an experienced interrogator. "Partly, yes, but there's no reason for them to stay. You won't hurt me, and they would just make you uneasy."

"What makes you think I won't hurt you? You have access to the same information they do. Why do you think I'm so much different than they do?"

"They look at things from a police officer's perspective. I don't."

"Did you ever think that is a mistake?"

"No, because I am a psychologist, not a police officer."

In the outer room, observing the questioning, Eames slowly shook her head. "What are you doing, Bobby?" she whispered.

"Why do you ask that, detective?" Lightman asked her.

"He's _trying_ to antagonize her."

"He's testing the water, so to speak. Feeling her out. Smart thing to do."

She looked at him for a moment before returning her attention to the smaller room. She didn't know what to make of Lightman and his people and obviously, neither did her partner, but she got the feeling that Foster was trying to help. At least, she didn't seem as eager to lynch him as the local cops. She sensed that Goren's best chance of exoneration lay with Foster and Lightman, who was watching everything that transpired between his partner and hers.

"Tell me what happened last Friday night," Foster said, opening the window for the truth to come out.

He looked at the tabletop. He was getting tired of repeating himself. Foster leaned in closer. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he replied.

"You're tired of telling the same story over and over."

She was intuitive, and he reminded himself to be careful. "Nothing changes because I'm telling the truth. What I told Murphy and his partner the first time is the same thing I told them every other time they had me repeat it. It will be the same if I tell it again to you."

"So humor me," Foster said kindly. "I haven't heard the story yet."

The corners of his mouth quirked a little, and Lightman smiled. "He's amused," he said quietly, letting those around him know what he was seeing.

Foster would get to him, he knew. His decision to let her talk to him had been the right one.

Goren looked up from his hands to meet Foster's gaze. "I finished up the work I was doing and left for the weekend. I was supposed to go home to New York, but...plans changed. So I went out for a couple of drinks."

Lightman tilted his head a little. "That's painful for him," he said. "He didn't change his plans. They were changed for him."

Eames felt a jolt of guilt. _She_ was the one who'd changed their plans, at least for Friday night. If she'd left well enough alone, he would have been on his way to New York, not in that bar with Cassie Morton. He would have been in New York when Cassie Morton died and the Metro police would never have come knocking on his door.

"Had you been to that bar before?" Foster asked.

"Yes."

"And what did you do there?"

"I had a couple of beers."

Foster noted a slight twitch of his left eyelid. "A couple?"

He shrugged. "More than a couple. I don't know. I didn't keep track."

"I don't buy that. You know how much it takes to get you drunk. I think you know how much you had."

He looked directly at her, his eyes scanning her face. She was not going to let him get away with anything, and rightly so. She would call him on every exaggeration and half-truth...and she would know when he was being entirely truthful. "I was there for a couple of hours. I had five, maybe six beers. After I got home, I had a few more, but I stayed at home."

"What else did you do at the bar?"

He hesitated, looking at his hands again. "I, uh, I spent most of the evening talking to a woman."

Lightman pointed. "He feels guilty."

"Tell me about her," Foster encouraged.

"She was pretty, very pretty...and confident. Smart, successful. A lawyer...but I don't remember if she told me that or if I found out about it after the fact."

"Does that matter?"

"No, not to me."

"Tell me more about her."

He frowned. "You know who she was."

"He's suspicious. He doesn't quite know where she's going with this," Lightman observed for those around him.

"I want to see her through your eyes."

Goren sighed, but he turned back to his memory to describe Cassie Morton for her. "She had brown hair, shoulder length. Brown eyes. Clear, smooth skin. A nice body."

_**Soft** skin...A **really** nice body..._ He shifted in his seat, then caught himself. _Damn_. Foster watched him, and he knew she was reading him. That made him very uncomfortable. She'd caught him off-guard by making him focus on his memories instead of on her. "You were attracted to her," she observed.

Lightman waved his hand. "A big guilt response there."

Eames felt a guilt that mirrored his. She knew her partner well. He'd considered going home with Cassie Morton, as a way to soothe the rejection he felt when she told him to stay in Washington. He thought she was being unfair and vindictive, which was a reasonable assumption until he found out her true motive for changing their plans. But until then, he'd felt hurt and rejected. And it had been more than just a passing thought, but, ultimately, he had turned away from the temptation and left the bar alone. That was what mattered to her. And that was how she knew, beyond all doubt, that he was as committed to her as he said he was.

When Goren did not comment on her observation, Foster went on. "So you spent the evening with this very attractive, successful woman. She was interested in you, wasn't she?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And you were attracted to her."

He hesitated before answering, "Yes."

"So what did you do about it?"

"Nothing. I left."

"With her?"

"No. Alone. She, uh, she suggested going to her place, but I turned down her offer."

"Why?" Foster asked. "She was beautiful and available, and you're a single man."

"I wasn't interested."

"That's not the full truth," Lightman observed. "There's something more to it than that."

Foster had seen the same thing Lightman did and she called him on it. "That's not the truth, Agent Goren. You _were_ interested in her; you were attracted to her. Why not accept her offer since it was something you both wanted?"

"I just...I wasn't interested in sleeping with her."

"Again, not the full truth," Lightman announced softly.

Foster watched him, silent, but he offered nothing more. He would need some prodding. "You feel guilty," she said. "And you're not giving me the full truth. Why?"

"Because he killed her," muttered Murphy. "Why are we letting this circus continue? This clown said Goren feels guilty, so let's run with it."

"Clown? Really, detective?" Lightman gave him a look of contempt. "Just wait. We'll see who the real clown is. I don't think he feels guilt for the reason you think he does. I think it's something else."

"Does it matter? If he feels guilty, that's all Cartwright needs. Who cares _why_ he feels guilty?"

"_I_ care," Gerrold replied, his tone firm. "Cool your jets, Murphy. The why _does_ matter. If the man feels guilty for jaywalking, I will not be a party to convicting him of murder. Now shut up or I'll send you back to the station. And if I hear one more insult from your mouth directed at Dr. Lightman and his team, I'll slap you with another reprimand."

Murphy looked about ready to lash out at the captain, but he stepped away from him and moved to stand off by his partner. Eames liked Gerrold a little more for putting Murphy in his place. Logan had always been a hothead, and Goren had his issues with anger, but Murphy had a reckless rage, not a good quality in a police officer.

In the interview room, Goren had remained silent. Gently, Foster prodded a little more. "Why do you feel guilty, Agent Goren?"

He sighed and shifted his position. Lightman motioned again. "That's defeat."

"Good," Murphy muttered. "Let's get this confession over with."

Lightman answered, "He's going to confess, but I don't think it's the confession you're expecting."

"Do you deny he's hiding something?" Murphy challenged.

"Not at all. But I don't think that something is a murder."

Eames remained off to the side with Ross and Logan, watching everything with increasing distress. Logan divided his attention between her and Goren. Unnoticed, he slid a little closer to Eames and gently touched her arm. She stepped closer, pressing her arm against his, and she felt comforted.

"Agent Goren?" Foster urged.

"It's...complicated," he finally replied, studying his hands.

The cockiness he'd exhibited when she first entered the room had given way to something else entirely, and she was very curious. "So walk me through it. Help me to understand."

He looked up at her, his expression guarded. "I...I'm involved with someone else, back in New York."

She had not expected that answer, and a small smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Surprise," he said, turning the tables on her. He pointed at her. "You're surprised."

She nodded, offering him a full, genuine smile. He was very good at reading people, and she genuinely liked him. "There is nothing in your casefile about that."

"Because it's personal. It's not...relevant to any of this."

"I disagree. I think it's very relevant. That information could break the police case against you."

Goren smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile and it faded quickly. "It won't. It's not proof of innocence. All it gives them is a motive for why I might have turned down Cassie Morton. Ultimately, it does nothing to their case."

Foster took a moment to regroup, and that caused Goren to grace her with a brief smile of satisfaction. He liked catching her off-guard. She smiled, too. "You said it's complicated," she said. "How is it complicated?"

"It just is."

She sensed that was all he was going to say about it. She let him have that. "All right, then. Your girlfriend is back in New York. You had no reason to think she would ever find out about Cassie Morton. I still don't understand why you turned her down."

His mouth tightened into a thin line, and she saw the rage that flared in his eyes before he drew it back under control and it settled into a simmering anger. All amusement gone, his tone was cold when he answered, "She deserves better from me. I have more respect for her than that."

Lightman was very amused. "She offended him," he said brightly.

Foster studied Goren for a few moments, but he didn't flinch under her scrutiny. She wasn't immediately sure where the rage came from or why it was there, but she wasn't surprised that he reined it in quickly. "You don't like not being in control," she observed. "It's very difficult for you to be on the other side of the table, facing the mirror."

She'd struck a chord in him. She saw that in his reaction to her assessment, and she knew she was right, but she wondered if that was what had caused his anger to surface. He didn't like being pushed to analyze his own actions or to have his motivation brought into question. By suggesting he could have been unfaithful with impunity just because his girlfriend was several hundred miles away...no, that wasn't it, she realized. It was more than that.

Quietly, she said, "You are protecting her, aren't you?"

She was good, he admitted. No one had ever had as much success in reading him. "As best I can," he answered with a nod. "I don't want her involved in any part of this."

"But she is, isn't she?"

He was ready to end that particular line of questioning, to move the focus away from Eames. "Obliquely. That's involvement enough. I won't let her suffer my bad judgment."

She studied him more closely. "There's more to your guilt than what you feel for being attracted to another woman. You didn't act on that attraction. You remained faithful and ultimately did absolutely nothing wrong. You're a normal, healthy man. Being attracted to someone else is perfectly normal, not something that should arouse guilty feelings in you. Your guilt is bigger than that."

He was quiet, splaying his hands on the table and studying them. She also remained quiet, patiently waiting. His anger was gone. Finally, he confessed the true reason for his guilt. "If I had gone home with her, like she wanted, she would not be dead."

No one expected that answer from him, no one but Eames and Logan. Lightman cocked his head to one side. "He's being honest. He didn't kill her." He looked at Murphy and said with certainty, "You've got the wrong man."

"The rape?" Gerrold asked, cutting off Murphy's answer with a look.

Lightman shook his head. "No. He didn't rape her either. Rapists exhibit a need to assert power and control. I don't see any of that in him."

Quietly, Eames said, "No, he's not like that."

"He has anger issues," Ross pointed out. "And he prefers to be in control."

"Of course he does," Eames snapped. "So do you. And his anger is directed toward authority figures, and toward himself. Not toward women."

"She's right," Lightman agreed. "He's not your man, which means you still have a killer on the loose."

Murphy was furious. "Captain?"

Gerrold sighed. "I'm not prepared to drop him from our suspect list without solid proof of his innocence or another man's guilt. I'll watch for your report, Dr. Lightman, but we will continue our investigation."

Lightman gave a sly smile. "I'd expect no less, Captain Gerrold."

Although Ross didn't think Goren was guilty, either, he understood Gerrold's decision to proceed with caution despite Lightman's assessment. He would have also been reluctant to dismiss his only suspect in a high-profile murder.

In the interview room, Foster continued to study Goren. "You don't own her death. Nothing you did or did not do contributed to that in any way. Ultimately, that is entirely on another man, the one who actually did kill her."

Goren nodded. "I know that, and I don't regret my decision. If I had gone home with Cassie, my relationship in New York would be over, and I am not prepared to lose her. But...maybe I should have walked her home. There are other things I could have done that would have changed the outcome."

Foster smiled. "And what would have happened if you'd walked her home?"

He shifted in his chair, eyes downcast to the tabletop again. "She...she would still be alive."

"But what would have happened? Do you think she would have coaxed you to join her?"

"She would have tried."

"And?"

He drew in a deep breath, his discomfort increasing by the moment. "I would like to think I would still have said no."

"But there are no guarantees, especially when alcohol is involved."

He chewed on his lip, but didn't answer. At first, Foster didn't understand why he was so reluctant to discuss what happened, including speculating on what might have happened. But as she watched him shift uncomfortably, unwilling to look at her, it dawned on her why. She made a soft noise that only he heard, but he looked at her sharply, catching her eyes with a hard look. She knew. The woman he was involved with, the one he didn't want to lose, was watching them.

He saw the clarity of understanding in her eyes, and he silently pleaded with her not to out them. She understood the look in his eyes and gave him a barely perceptible nod. He relaxed, his warm, dark eyes conveying his gratitude.

She gave him a soft smile. "I think we're done here, at least for now. Thank you for your cooperation, Agent Goren."

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Foster," he answered.

The door opened, and Goren tensed, expecting Murphy. He relaxed a little when he saw that it was Gerrold. "You can go for now, Agent Goren. Just remain available."

"I don't have plans to go anywhere, captain."

Gerrold nodded and left. Goren and Foster walked to the door, which he held open for her. "Thank you," she said with a smile, stepping past him.

He watched her as he followed her, which Lightman called him on as they descended the steps into the outer room. "Quite a looker, isn't she?" he asked.

Goren looked embarrassed, but Lightman nudged him. "It's all right, mate. She's used to it. I imagine your girl is as well."

Goren's expression turned to one of suspicion; his tension returned, but he remained silent. Normally, that would be enough to silence anyone who thought to give him a hard time. With Lightman, however, it was as though he'd issued a challenge. "Come on—fess up. She's a looker, too."

Goren glared at him, but moved on past him. Gerrold and his detectives were gone. Turner and Decker were there with Eames and Logan, but so was Ross. Lightman followed him, deliberately pushing his buttons to get a rise from him. "Embarrassed, Agent Goren?"

Goren spun toward him, his eyes once more bright with anger. "What do you know about her?" he challenged, unaware that Lightman knew about him and Eames.

Lightman let him continue to make that assumption. "It's not what I know about her. It's what I know about you. I can see your taste in women. It's a logical assumption to make."

Goren relaxed a little. "It's not a good idea to make general assumptions about her. She's...unique."

"Of course she is, because she's yours," Lightman agreed. "You're fond of her."

Goren didn't say anything, but he wasn't able to hide his reaction to Lightman's assessment. "No?" Lightman said, ignoring Foster as she poked him in the ribs. As time went on, Lightman grew more intrigued by Goren. "More than fond?"

"Leave him alone, Cal," Foster chided.

But Lightman studied Goren with increased scrutiny. "Come on, mate. It's just us here. The local cops are gone."

Goren's expression turned dangerous, a look Eames and Logan recognized. Logan grabbed Goren's shoulder firmly. "Come on, buddy. It's time we got going, too."

Lightman didn't back off, though. "You should have given it a test, gone home with Cassie Morton, saved her life."

Foster stared at him in surprise, then frowned. Goren turned and took a step toward Lightman, but Eames intervened, stepping between them. "Let's go," she said.

Lightman smiled, pleased that he'd riled Goren. As they walked away, Lightman said, "You're a smart one."

Goren stopped, casting an annoyed look at Logan when he ran into him. Then he looked at Lightman. "What does that mean?"

"Just what I said. You're very smart. You know when to control yourself and you know how to do it. Never let them see you sweat. But you have no control over your unconscious responses, and those are the ones that interest me. Those are the ones that betray you."

Goren's shoulders tensed and he flexed his hand in and out of a fist. He didn't want to have this conversation, but Lightman was not going to let him step away from it, and he went on. "Like when your pupils dilate to indicate your attraction to a woman. My partner, for example. And your guilt response...that's too big for you to hide. You're conflicted. You wish you could have acted to save her, but you're not guilty about your decision to remain faithful. It's the fallout of your decision—Cassie Morton's death—that causes you grief. How close to the mark am I?"

"Bull's-eye," Goren answered tightly.

"Glad you made the decision you did, I'll wager."

Goren nodded, letting his apprehension begin to slip away. "Yes. The truth always comes out, one way or another."

"And if this had been a different truth..."

"My relationship would be over," he said with certainty.

Lightman approached him, clapped his hand on Goren's shoulder and whispered, "Good job, then. She thinks that, too."

Goren tensed. "How do you know that?" he asked, his voice low.

"The same way I know that we shouldn't even be having this conversation. The son of a schizophrenic and a serial killer would have been born with three strikes against him, but look at you."

Goren's rage returned. "How the hell do you know that?"

Lightman just winked at him and walked away.


	18. The Sixth Victim

Seething with anger, Goren took a step to follow Lightman, but Eames blocked his path. "What did he say?" she asked.

He searched her face. "How the hell does he know about my past?"

"He has your file."

He ran his hand through his hair, restless and agitated. "Brady is in there. My mother is not."

"Oh," she said softly.

He looked at her with disbelief. "You? You told him...?"

"Bobby..." she began, but he backed away from her, a look of disbelief on his face.

Of all people, she knew how private he was, how fiercely he had always protected his mother. Nothing had changed with her death. Logan grabbed his arm. "Bobby..." he began.

Shaking his head, still stunned, Goren yanked his arm from Logan's grasp and turned away from the group. Striding with purpose, he left the building.

Eames watched him go with tears in her eyes. "I...I thought it would help," she said, looking at Logan. "If Lightman knew what he had overcome."

"You were right," he assured her. "He'll come around to see that. Just let him cool off."

Decker was confused. "Did we miss something?"

Eames shook her head. "It's a misunderstanding. We'll work it out."

She separated herself from the group and walked away. Logan trotted after her, leaving the others behind. "Come on, honey," he said quietly. "I'll buy you lunch."

"It's going to be dinnertime soon," she answered.

"Oh, wow...we missed lunch?" He grinned. "Okay, then, dinner. By the time we get home, I'll bet he'll be there, apologetic and ready to talk."

She gave him a small smile. "All right, Mike. We can take a cab back to the car. I really don't want to deal with Ross right now, anyway."

"That makes two of us," he murmured, gently grasping her elbow. He waved at Ross and the two agents. "We'll catch you guys tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Ross asked.

"Positive, captain. Have a good night."

He gently steered Eames for the front doors of the offices and they left without talking to anyone else.

* * *

><p>Logan was wrong. The sun had long set when they returned to the dark, empty apartment. Eames walked through the lonely rooms twice before she sat down on the couch. "Now what?"<p>

"We wait," he answered. "What else can we do? This isn't New York; I have no idea where he'd go."

She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "Was I wrong, Mike? Should I not have told Lightman the things I told him?"

"What exactly did you tell him?"

She sighed. "I only wanted him to know the past that Bobby overcame, that he's a good man despite his upbringing."

"Bobby will come around, Alex. You know how he is, especially about his mother. He'll get over it."

She wrapped her arms around her middle. Like Logan, she expected him to be home by now. He sat beside her and picked up the remote. "Let's watch some TV. He'll be home soon."

She settled back on the couch and sighed. "I didn't want to hurt him."

"Of course you didn't," he said as he flipped through the channels. "How about this?"

"That's fine. Whatever you want to watch."

He settled back on the couch and touched her arm. "Try not to worry. He's a big boy and he can take care of himself."

Logan was right. Her worry, however, did not stem from concern for his physical well being. It was his emotional state about which she was concerned, and legitimately so. Hidden within that big, strong body was an uncertain man who had trouble rectifying his emotions. She wanted to help him, but there was nothing she could do. He had to work through his troubled mind on his own.

* * *

><p>Goren had lost track of time and place as he wandered the streets, trying to sort through jumbled thoughts and hurt feelings. How could she have told Lightman about his mother? She, of all people, knew how protective he was, even of her memory. It had not been her fault that she was ill. The abuse and the poor decisions that peppered his childhood were in the past. He wanted to leave them there, but they kept cropping up to assault him when he least expected them. But Eames was the last person he expected to use his mother against him.<p>

For hours, those thoughts scrambled through his head, confusing him and driving him further into himself. A long time passed before he began to calm and reason took over for emotion. Why would she take it upon herself to tell Lightman those personal details of his past? What motivation could she possibly have had?

She had not done it to hurt him. She couldn't have. She had to have thought it would help him somehow. And Lightman could have easily coerced her. He was a manipulator. He could have convinced her that it was in his best interest to know everything he could. And was it? Perhaps.

By the time he emerged from inside his head, he'd worked through his emotions and he was exhausted. Many hours had passed and he'd missed quite a few calls...three from Logan, two from Decker, one each from Ross and Turner...and six from Eames. Only one had left a voicemail, and he listened to it.

_Bobby, I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told Lightman about your mom, but I thought it would only help if he knew where you came from, the obstacles you've overcome in your life. Please...come home, or call me, or something. I'm worried about you._

She always worried, though he wished she wouldn't. He dialed her number. She answered on the fourth ring, her voice thick with sleep. "Bobby? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Eames. I...you shouldn't have worried."

"But I do."

"I know. I just...I wish you wouldn't."

"Bobby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay. We'll talk about it when I get home."

"Are we...Are we okay?"

He remembered asking her that very question, and she'd given him a cryptic answer that had done nothing to alleviate his apprehension. _I hope so._

He didn't have it in him to do that to her, though. "We're okay," he assured her. "I'll be home soon."

"Where are you?"

"I have no idea. I'll figure that out and then I'll be home."

"I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know. I probably shouldn't have gotten mad...but...I was already there, and that just tipped me over the edge. I'm sorry."

"Just come home, okay?"

"Go back to sleep. I'll be there soon."

"Okay," she answered around a yawn. "And Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He paused, wishing he could see her face. But he had to trust that she meant it. He hoped that she did. "I love you, too," he answered softly, and he did mean it.

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Feeling marginally better, he walked toward the corner to see if he could figure out where he was.

* * *

><p>He'd thought about taking a cab, but decided against it. It was a nice night and the walk certainly wouldn't hurt him. He figured he was only a mile or so from home. Occupying his mind with more pleasant thoughts than he'd been having all day, he focused on Eames, and he felt himself relax. His thoughts untangled as he meandered through memories of her...her smile, her laugh, her face beaming up at him as he hovered over her...her body responding to his...<p>

His pace picked up. Although he hated arguing with her, he could not deny that making up with her was well-worth the argument, something he would never have guessed. The past six months had taught him many things about her, and about himself, too. He was finally relaxing in the relationship, allowing himself to enjoy being with her, and for the first time he could remember, he was truly happy. Although the separation was difficult for them, things seemed to be improving between them. Once he was back home in New York, where he belonged, he was certain things would get even better. Just the thought of that charged him with enthusiasm, and he wanted to see her. He ached to be with her now, and he really needed to get home. Maybe a cab wouldn't be such a bad idea after all...

He stopped suddenly. What was that? His body rapidly calmed as his mind concentrated on the streets. He'd heard _something_...

There it was again. He looked around to gather his bearings. He was much closer to his neighborhood than he expected to be, only a few blocks from the bar where he'd met Cassie Morton.

Another noise, muffled, but he could hear panic...something was wrong. He trotted toward a nearby alley, the source of the noises. Then he stopped. His cop instinct kicked in, and he wished he had his sidearm. Keeping to the shadows, he slid into the alley.

He could make out two figures in the deeper shadow, one of them apparently struggling against the other. A low voice growled, "Just hold still. This won't take long."

The muffled reply ended on the attempt of a scream, followed by the sound of flesh slapping flesh. "No screaming," snarled the voice, cold and calculated. "There's no one around to hear you, anyway. It's a waste of energy better spent on me."

Normally, he would be right. It was a quiet, working-class neighborhood. Most people in the surrounding buildings were locked up tight in the safety of their bedrooms, sleeping away the stress of the day as their bodies regenerated to face the next one. No one would have heard her, but tonight, he did.

He crept in closer, and he heard the sound of fabric tearing. "You'll like this, I promise," growled the voice. "It'll be the last thing you ever feel, so I'll make it good. You can call me Romeo and I will call you Juliet."

He laughed, a cold, horrifying noise. Goren heard another muffled screech, followed by sobs. "Just relax...surrender...and it will be over in no time...let yourself go and I'll take you out on a high note..."

"I don't think so," Goren said evenly.

Everything in the alley went suddenly still. The shadows diverged and the man turned, stepping into into the single beam of light that penetrated the alley from a source Goren had no interest in finding. He still held the woman's arm in an iron grip, jerking hard when she struggled. She whimpered and looked at Goren with terrified, pleading eyes, sobbing against the gag in her mouth and twisting her hands against the duct tape that bound her wrists. Her shirt was torn to reveal one firm, perfect breast.

Although Goren paid no conscious attention to detail, his mind still registered her fear and her pain. It noticed her bruises and the cut at the hairline above her left eye that left blood all over her young face. Her terror masked the pain of her injuries, including the shoulder Romeo had dislocated, and she was shaking with fear.

Romeo twisted her injured arm, jerking her against him. She cried out against the gag and sobbed louder. Goren moved closer and the man's eye widened with recognition. "You..." he growled.

Goren recognized him, too. He saw the same dead eyes he had seen outside the bar a week ago. "You," he replied, feeling rage rise like bile in the back of his throat.

Without another thought, Goren charged at him. Romeo released his hold on the woman and turned his attention to the attack. Slamming his body into Romeo with considerable force, Goren drove them deeper into the alley. Taking just a second to turn to the young woman, he yelled, "Run! Get out of here!"

His command snapped her from her shock and she ran out of the alley and down the street, pulling the gag from her mouth and freeing her hands from the duct tape as she ran.

Romeo became enraged as the woman ran beyond his grasp, and he turned that rage onto the man who had let her get away. "She was mine!" he shrieked, grabbing a wooden board from the ground and swinging it toward Goren's head.

Goren ducked and the board whooshed just a few inches over his head. He charged again, giving Romeo no time to recover from his swing. They crashed into a trash can on their way to the ground.

Romeo was dangerous. Driven by a desperate need, he had sought out another woman to fill that need. Goren had interrupted him, so he would take his life in her place. It wouldn't be as satisfying, and it certainly wouldn't feed the lust for fear and control that fired his soul, but he would enjoy watching life leave the big man who had stolen his conquest.

Goren felt the unfettered power in his opponent's blows. Romeo had no reservations about causing lethal harm; he held back nothing. His dead soul felt only the desires that drove him. Goren was fighting for his life, and he knew it. It was a battle he could not lose.


	19. Pit Bull at the Door

Alan Decker stopped in front of the door to his partner's apartment and knocked. He waited a minute, then knocked again. The door opened, and Mike Logan glared at him, hair mussed, sleep still in his eyes. "What the hell is your problem? Do you know what time it is?"

"Alex is here, too, isn't she?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Get dressed and get her. You both need to come with me now."

"For the record, Decker, I don't like to play games, and Alex is even less fond of them than I am. If I go in there and tell her you've come calling without a reason, she's gonna shoot me and then she'll come after you."

Normally, Decker would be amused, but he had too much on his mind right then. "I don't have any details. All I know is Turner got a call from Gerrold and he called me. Goren was brought in to Sibley Memorial Hospital, and he's in rough shape."

Alarm filled Logan's face. "Gimme five minutes."

He disappeared from the doorway, and Decker stepped inside to wait. Logan pulled on his shoes and grabbed a shirt, then hurried down the hall, bursting into the bedroom without knocking. "Alex, get up," he said.

Responding to his tone, she sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know but Decker's here to get us. Bobby's in the hospital."

Ignoring the fact that Logan was right there, she got out of bed and quickly dressed. They left the apartment with Decker moments later.

* * *

><p>Turner and Ross were already in the waiting room when they arrived. They met near the desk. "The only information we have is that they're still working on him. They won't tell us anything more," Turner informed them. "But Murphy and Sanchez are here, and Gerrold just arrived. They're all back there. Gerrold promised to let us know what's going on soon."<p>

Eames shook her head. "Oh, no, they don't. Whatever happened to him, Murphy is not going to get to him first."

She marched to the desk and showed her badge to the woman who was seated there. "My partner is here and I want to see him."

The clerk looked at her with detachment. "Name?"

"His name is Goren."

"Oh, you're with these gentlemen. I'm sorry but you have to wait..."

"Like hell I do. I have medical proxy for him."

That seemed to make a difference. "Wait here."

She returned five minutes later with a nurse, who was much more sympathetic when addressing the small group. "I was told one of you has medical proxy for Agent Goren?"

"I do," Eames replied. "I want to see him."

"I'll see what I can do. Come with me." She motioned at the rest of the group. "Someone will be out to talk with you as soon as we know anything."

Eames glanced at the men for a second before she followed the nurse. They passed through a door and made their way past a dozen trauma rooms before Eames saw Gerrold with Murphy and Sanchez. Murphy's expression was dour. "Wait here," the nurse said as she opened a door.

Gerrold approached her. "Detective Eames."

"Do you know what happened?"

He shook his head. "We don't have the full story yet, but I'll tell you what we do know. Follow me." He pointed a finger at Murphy. "Stay right there."

He led her to a nearby trauma room, opening the door. They stepped just inside. A young woman lay on the bed, sleeping. Her face was bruised and her right arm was in a sling. A white bandage at the hairline above her left eye stood out in stark contrast to her tanned skin. "This is Melody Whitlock. She's eighteen years old." He touched Eames' elbow and led her back into the hallway. "At 1:34, dispatch received a frantic call from her. They dispatched a unit, who called my guys ten minutes later. She was grabbed by a man who tried to rape her. He told her he was going to kill her, and she has no doubt he would have. She claims another man came along and interrupted the act. He told her to run, which she did. Once she got several blocks away, she calmed down enough to become concerned for her rescuer, and she called 911. She led the local unit to the alley, where they found Goren and another man, both unconscious. Neither of them has regained consciousness yet. She identified Goren as her rescuer and the other man as her attacker."

"Let me guess...Murphy doesn't believe it."

"He thinks she's confused and he wants to interrogate her."

Eames looked alarmed. "Are you going to let him?"

Gerrold laughed a little. "I'm not letting him into the same room with her. Right now she's sedated, poor kid. No, I won't subject her to Murphy. Now this other guy...well, he's fair game."

"And my partner?"

"We'll see what happens, but the patrolman I talked to said she seemed very certain with her identification."

"Do you think this man is the serial killer you're not looking for?"

He laughed again. "You don't pull any punches, do you?"

"I just know that my partner is innocent."

Gerrold nodded, but she couldn't tell if he was agreeing with her. "We'll see how it plays out," he said, as they returned to the room where Goren was.

Fifteen minutes later, the nurse came out of the room and nodded at Eames. "Come in," she said. "He's still out, but the doctor would like to talk to you."

Eames followed the nurse into the room. Her attention immediately focused on the gurney in the center of the room. She approached slowly. His eyes were closed but his breathing seemed regular and easy. He was shirtless, and she counted at least a dozen bruises on his face and torso. A small laceration was open under his left eye, which was swollen and bruised. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm, then looked at the doctor. "Is he okay?"

"He took a real beating. You have medical proxy for him?"

She nodded. "I do. I gave the paperwork to your clerk."

He motioned at Goren's prone form. "All I have done so far is stabilize him. The IV was established as a precaution; I've given him no medication. I drew blood to evaluate his basic body chemistries and blood count. They all seem fine. I'd like to do some x-rays and a CT of his chest and his head."

She nodded. "Go ahead."

"And the police have also requested bloodwork, to check for alcohol and drugs."

She stiffened at that. "No," she said as a matter of principle. "They can wait until he wakes up or they can get a court order. He's not under arrest and I won't consent to that."

The doctor seemed surprised. "Are you concerned about the results?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. I can tell you what the results will be. He has no drugs in his system and if his BAC is elevated, that's not a crime."

"But what they are investigating is."

"I wasn't aware that saving a young woman's life was a crime, doctor. Do your job. Let me and mine do ours. He can have the x-rays and the scan, but no further bloodwork unless _he _consents."

The doctor nodded. "You should probably wait outside until he wakes up. He's likely to be agitated and I may have to sedate him."

"I would prefer to be here when he wakes up," she insisted. "I can handle him."

The doctor hesitated for a minute before he consented. "All right. You can stay."

"Thank you," she replied. She rubbed Goren's arm lightly and studied his bruised face. As the doctor walked toward the door, she asked, "When they asked for the blood to be drawn, did they say please?"

The doctor turned and looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"The police. When they asked for the bloodwork...did they actually _ask_?"

"Do they ever? I'm sending him to radiology now. He'll be back in about thirty minutes."

She paused, reaching out to lightly touch his cheek. He didn't respond. When they came to take him to radiology, she sought out Gerrold.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted blood from Goren?" she demanded.

Gerrold turned away from Sanchez and Murphy to face her. "Because I didn't," he answered.

"Someone ordered the doctor to draw blood. Just so you know, as his medical proxy, I refused. Since he's not under arrest, I'm well within my rights. You want blood, you get a court order. Otherwise, it's assault."

"Look here..." Murphy started.

Eames pointed a finger at him. "Back off. I'm not talking to you."

Gerrold looked amused; Murphy was livid. "Bloodwork, Murphy? Do you want to explain?"

"He assaulted another man. Last time I checked, that was a felony."

Eames glared at him. "You're really grasping at straws, aren't you? It's not a felony for a cop to do his job. He saved that poor girl's life, and then he fought for his own."

"That's your story. We'll see what really happened when we get everyone's statements."

"You're getting very damn close to harassment, detective."

Gerrold shook his head slowly. Murphy sure was a pit bull. His jaws were locked on Goren and he wasn't letting go. "She's right, Murphy. I suggest you back off right now. Until we work out the details of what happened, you stay clear of Goren. Sanchez and I will get his statement. And if you go near that girl, I will suspend you."

Murphy looked pissed enough to chew nails, but he held his tongue. Gerrold turned back to Eames. "I have a crime scene unit going over that alley with a fine-toothed comb. Right now, I have no reason to need blood from him. If that changes, I will talk to you or to him."

She nodded. "Thank you. He's going for x-rays and a CT scan now. What have they said about the other guy?"

"Only that he's stable and they're waiting for him to wake up so they can get permission to perform non-essential treatment. Concussion, some broken bones, maybe a few ribs. That's as much as they can assess right now."

"Sounds like they're about in the same boat."

Gerrold smiled. "Looks like he gave as good as he got."

She nodded. "And the girl?"

"She was definitely assaulted. A victim's advocate will be here in the morning. I'm hoping to talk to her before then."

"She's a victim, remember? She doesn't deserve to be interrogated."

"I don't have a hidden agenda, detective. I know that she's a victim and I will be sensitive to that. I'll accept her ID of both men as long as I feel it's a good ID. Would you like to be present when I talk to her?"

"Yes. I would."

"Captain!" Murphy protested.

Gerrold turned to Murphy with a warning look, and the detective backed down unhappily. He was enraged by this turn of events. He'd argued with Gerrold about Lightman's opinion that Goren was innocent, claiming that Goren was simply a charmer who had everyone fooled—everyone except him. Now, because of this victim, there was a chance that Goren could walk. He was still convinced that the man was a killer. Even if the woman identified the other man as her attacker, there was no solid evidence linking the guy to any of the other victims. When Gerrold told him that was what police work was for, to find those links, Murphy nearly lost his temper. He walked away from the captain before he said something he would really regret. Gerrold could do whatever he wanted, Murphy was not prepared to release Goren as a person of interest in the serial killer case. He wasn't going to let a killer walk.

* * *

><p>Eames sat beside Goren's bed, watching him for any sign of wakening. Her mind wandered into the past, just a few days ago, before this nightmare began. She smiled at the memory.<p>

She walked into the kitchen as he was making dinner. He turned his attention from the stove, watching her open the refrigerator and take out a beer. Adjusting the burners, he stepped away and folded his arms around her from behind. With a smile, she turned and slipped her arms around his neck as he bent in to kiss her.

Smiling against his mouth, she rested the cold beer against the back of his neck. "Hey," he protested with a laugh.

He dipped back in for another kiss, gradually intensifying it. As she began losing herself in him, he lightly tickled her waist. Caught entirely off-guard, she laughed into his mouth. Smiling, he withdrew just a few centimeters and softly said, "Do that again."

"What?"

"Let me tickle you. Laugh into me."

She tipped her head back a little more to look at him, a quizzical look on her face. He trailed his fingers lightly down the side of her face. "The only joy I get in my life comes from you," he whispered earnestly. "You define happiness for me, and everything that is good and real and...and right in my life comes from you."

She set down the beer, cradled his face in her hands and kissed him again, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his.

They ate out that night and Logan still gave them a hard time about it. "Who burns spaghetti? All ya gotta do is boil water. Even I don't burn spaghetti."

With a tender smile, she leaned down and softly kissed him. "You can burn the spaghetti any time," she whispered against his ear. "Just...wake up, okay?"

She stayed by his side, held his hand and waited for him to come back to her.


	20. Putting the Pieces Together

Nearly an hour passed after Goren returned to his room before the doctor came back in to talk to Eames. Stepping to the other side of the bed, he moved his hand over the right side of Goren's abdomen, where the bruising was extensive and continued to deepen. "Right here," he said quietly. "This is where his injuries are the most severe. There are twelve sets of ribs protecting the chest cavity. The first seven sets are called true ribs, because they connect directly to the sternum. The last five sets of ribs are called false ribs. They do not connect directly to the sternum. Three sets are connected by cartilage to the ribs above them, but the final two sets are also called floating ribs. They connect only to the spine and are free of attachment on their medial ends. Apparently, he was kicked repeatedly in the side here, which is why the bruising is so extensive. The CT scan shows damage to four of the seven true ribs and to all five of his false ribs. One of these floating ribs was fractured and displaced. I want to follow up tomorrow with another scan, and we will decide then if surgical intervention is necessary. It could have been much worse. There is no evidence of damage to any of his organs or to his lungs. His activity will be restricted for six to eight weeks, but he should make a complete recovery."

"What about his head?"

"There is no fracture. He's suffered a moderate concussion and should regain consciousness soon. He was a lucky man. Once he wakens, we will transfer him to a room upstairs. We'll keep him for a few days, as a precaution."

She nodded. Goren wouldn't like that, but she would convince him to cooperate. He didn't always do what was in his best interest, but he would listen to her. She knew he would.

* * *

><p>The darkness receded as awareness returned, and with it came pain. He groaned deeply and shifted where he lay, which worsened the pain. Each breath sent a band of fire searing through his chest, but he still tried to move. He couldn't give up. For Alex, he had to fight; he had to win. If he let her down this time, there would be no coming back. Somewhere far away, a man's voice told him not to move. He fought harder, struggling against the pain to get up. His head was foggy, and every instinct in him was tuned toward survival. Hands held him down and he panicked. Using his considerable strength, enhanced by fear for his life—no, not for his life—for what his death would do to his partner—he broke free, listening with satisfaction to the crash that followed.<p>

Then...a sound broke through the fog of panic in his head. Words, spoken in his partner's voice, full of anger and pleading. _No...don't! Let me talk to him...That won't solve anything!_

He twisted in the darkness, toward the sound of her voice, and light broke through the dark clouds swirling around in his head. He tried to speak, but words wouldn't come. He shoved himself toward her, felt himself suddenly falling. He hit the ground, hard, and pain exploded across his entire body. Darkness enveloped him once again, and he knew nothing.

* * *

><p>Eames was furious as she helped the medical staff get her unconscious partner back onto the bed. "If you'd just let me talk to him, this would not have happened," she chastised the doctor angrily. "He'll respond to me!"<p>

"Detective..." he began.

"No, you listen! He _will_ respond to me. I guarantee it! When he starts to come around again, just let me talk to him!"

"He was fighting for his life when he went out, and his agitation proves that his mind is locked in 'fight or flight' mode. He chose to fight, and he will again."

"But I can get past that. He'll listen to me." She puffed herself up and stood her ground. "I have medical proxy," she reminded the man. "You will not sedate him."

"To protect my staff, I certainly will," he countered.

"Look, I know my partner. You can stand by, and if he gets out of hand, then you can sedate him. But I'm telling you I can get through to him."

The doctor studied her, taking in her angry flush as well as the desperation beneath it. She honestly did not want him to sedate her partner. Finally, he conceded. "All right, Detective Eames. I will give you one chance, and only one chance, to try to get through to him. But the instant I feel that anyone, and that includes both you and him, is in any sort of danger, I _will_ sedate him."

"Fine. But you have to give me a real chance."

"All right. Now please, step aside so I can examine him. I have to make sure that fall didn't do more damage."

Reluctantly, Eames stepped aside, watching as the doctor carefully examined Goren from head to foot. Once he was convinced that Goren was okay, he said, "I'll be back shortly."

He left the room, and Eames returned to her partner's side, slipping her hand into his and softly admonishing him to behave.

* * *

><p>"Detective Eames?"<p>

She turned toward Gerrold. "Yes, Captain?"

"Miss Whitlock is awake."

She looked at Goren before she stepped away from the bed. "Promise me Murphy doesn't have access to this room."

"I promise. He is not allowed near Goren."

She still hesitated, but talking to the girl who was attacked rated a notch higher on her priority list at the moment. She couldn't take the chance that Gerrold or anyone else would attempt to alter the girl's memories. She left the room with Gerrold and walked down the hall to Melody's room.

The young woman looked up when the door opened, frightened and apprehensive. The attending physician had been forced to relinquish her care to a female colleague because she was too agitated when he was in the room. She withdrew at the sight of Gerrold, but settled a little when she saw Eames. "Hi, Melody," Eames said with a reassuring smile. "My name is Alex."

Melody just nodded. Patiently, Eames went on. "We're police officers, Melody. We want to talk to you for just a minute about what happened tonight. Will you talk to us?"

She considered the request before she nodded. Eames moved closer, while Gerrold stayed back. "Tell me what happened tonight," Eames encouraged.

In a quiet voice, punctuated with sobs and tremors, Melody told them about the attack. Her terror was palpable. Eames held out her hand, and Melody grasped it, seeking calm. By the time she finished describing the attack, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Eames folded her arms around the girl and held her until she was calmer. Then she said, "Did he rape you?"

Melody shook her head. "N-No. He stopped him."

"He? Who is that?"

"I don't know his name, but I will never forget him. He...He's tall, handsome. He came from out of nowhere, and he...he...oh, my God...is he okay? He was on the ground in that alley, and he wasn't moving...!"

"Shhh," Eames soothed. "Don't worry about him. Tell me what he did."

"He...He made him let me go, and he told me to run, so I ran."

"Did you do anything else?"

"I just ran. Oh, and I called the police. I thought R-Romeo was going to kill him. Did he? Please...tell me he didn't!"

"It's okay. He didn't."

She looked at Gerrold, who came a little closer. Melody tightened her grip on Eames, and she stifled a sob. "It's okay," Eames reassured her. "This is Captain Gerrold. He needs to ask you a few questions."

Gerrold gave her a soft smile. "Everything is going to be all right, Melody. I want to show you a couple of pictures, and I need you to tell me if you recognize any of them, okay?"

Slowly, the girl nodded. Gerrold pulled a small batch of photos from his pocket. He showed her a picture of Logan. "Do you know him?"

She shook her head. "No."

The next picture was of Murphy. She shook her head. Then he produced a picture of Goren. Melody gasped. "Him," she said. "He's the one...the one who saved me!"

"Okay," Gerrold said softly, setting the picture aside. "Just a couple more."

He showed her a picture of Decker. Nothing. Finally, he showed her the picture of the man who called himself Romeo. Melody shrieked and went into a full-blown panic. The doctor had to come in and sedate her. Gerrold looked at Eames. "I would call that a positive ID, wouldn't you?"

She nodded. "Yes, but there's no way that girl will be able to face him in a courtroom."

"Not today or tomorrow, no. Maybe never. But maybe Goren saw and heard enough that she won't have to."

"So you're satisfied with the ID?"

"Absolutely. He's off the hook for this one. I'm going to see if we can find anything that will tie this other guy to any of the other murders. I can sell probable cause to Cartwright and get a warrant for this guy's hovel, as soon as we find out who the hell he is and what rock he crawled out from under. I can't make any promises, but I find myself falling more in line with Lightman. I'm beginning to believe that Goren is innocent."

"That's because he _is_ innocent," Eames insisted.

Without saying anything more, she returned to her partner's side.

* * *

><p>The darkness receded quickly, and he became restless. His last memory was of fighting for his life in a dark alley not far from home. When he heard movement, he grew edgy, ready to continue the fight, despite the fire that engulfed his chest.<p>

"Bobby..."

A soft voice penetrated the fog in his head. _Eames_. He struggled toward the light, toward her. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness. She said something that he didn't quite catch and the brightness faded. His eyes relaxed, but his vision was blurry. Slowly, it cleared...and there she was. Safe. "Alex..." he said softly.

The vibration of his voice caused a cough which sent fire searing through his chest. The edges of his vision grew dim. As the pain ebbed, he became aware of her hand, gripping his. He squeezed it and she smiled, leaning down to softly kiss him. Moving his arm slowly, he touched her cheek. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly.

"For what?"

"For...getting angry and taking off like I did. For...For getting into trouble...again..."

She gave him another kiss. "It's okay. Bobby, you saved a girl from a terrible death at the hands of a rapist. Do you remember that?"

He took the time to search his memories. Flashes of the struggle in the alley played through his mind. "R-Romeo..." he replied. "He...called himself Romeo...and said she was Juliet."

She caressed his arm. "Her name is Melody."

His mouth turned up into a small smile. "That's a pretty name."

She smiled. "She's a pretty girl. And she'll become a pretty woman, thanks to you."

She could see the confusion he battled along with the fogginess and the pain. Turning her head, she looked at the doctor. "Is there anything you can give him?" she asked.

For the first time, he looked past her. Aside from the doctor, Gerrold and Turner were also in the room. He started to sit up, but the pain in his chest drove him back down. "Stay still," Eames admonished.

Turner motioned at him. "It's okay, Bobby."

The doctor approached the bedside. "Let me examine you," he said.

Goren looked at him but did not reply until Eames squeezed his hand. Then he gave a brief nod. The doctor placed his hands on Goren's head. "Let me know where it hurts," he directed, and he began to apply pressure to different parts of Goren's skull.

Aside from a few bruises and a laceration at his left temple, most of the pain was on the inside of his head. There was no pain in his face, except for the bruise that surrounded his left eye. His neck was fine, but his right shoulder was sore, and so was his left hand. Oddly, the doctor skipped over his chest. His abdomen was very sore but his hips and legs were fine. Gently, the doctor helped him roll onto his side so he could palpate his back. Bruises aside, his back was also fine. Then the doctor examined his chest, and the pain nearly did him in. The darkness engulfed him quickly, but it receded just as quickly when he fought it. Breathing was difficult and the fire continued to burn. The doctor grabbed a syringe from his pocket and injected it into the IV line that snaked into his right arm. The medicine hit him quickly, and he could breathe again. He became light-headed and dizzy, and a light fog muffled his mind. He became aware that he was squeezing Eames' hand tightly, and he released his grip, shifting his eyes to her with an apologetic look. She gave him a gentle smile and he relaxed.

The doctor stepped away, and Turner took his place. "You look a wreck," he said with a grin.

"I'll heal," Goren answered.

"You did good. You got a very bad man off the streets, and I'll bet you saved a lot more lives than just Melody Whitlock's."

"I...I was just going home."

Turner patted his arm. "Yeah, but you didn't ignore a woman in need."

"I wouldn't."

"I know."

He stepped aside so Gerrold could say his piece. "Do you remember what happened, Agent Goren?"

"I remember," Goren answered, his tone guarded.

"Tell me what you remember."

Goren hesitated until Eames squeezed his hand again. She nodded at him, encouraging him. Goren drew in a deep breath, flaring the pain in his chest. He doubled over, and Eames moved in closer, stroking his hair and his back, whispering softly into his ear. She no longer cared who was around, who saw what. He was all that mattered to her, and she was going to get him through this. As the pain faded once more under the blanket of the pain killer, Goren sat back and relaxed. Gerrold waited patiently until he was ready to talk.

After Goren finished giving his account of what happened in the alley, Gerrold closed his notepad. Goren's account matched Melody Whitlock's. He slid the pad into the inner pocket of his jacket. "You said he called himself Romeo?"

"Yes."

"We're running his prints and his DNA to see what we can find out about him. With any luck, he'll pop in the system. He came around about an hour ago, and he's claiming you assaulted him without cause. Of course, that doesn't match up with what you and the victim have stated. And there's no record of unprovoked violence in your jacket with NYPD or the FBI. He's a weird one, this Romeo guy. Definitely not the Ted Bundy type."

"I'll interrogate him, when he's ready," Goren offered.

Gerrold paused, not knowing what to make of the offer. "Murphy and Sanchez..." Gerrold began, stopping when Eames made a derisive noise.

"Murphy isn't looking for the real perp," she accused. "He has his sights set on Goren to the exclusion of everyone else, including the guy who really did it."

"I know he seems single-minded..."

"Seems?"

It was Goren's turn to squeeze her hand. She sat back, still steaming. "It's your call, captain," he said.

"Given the circumstances, I'm not sure it would be a good idea. The man assaulted you."

Goren shrugged, wincing when the movement caused a pain response through his chest. "That has no bearing on the attack on Miss Whitlock."

Eames said, "My partner has a unique set of interrogation skills. I've never known a cop like him. If you want to get to the truth, let him talk to the guy."

"I'll think about it," Gerrold promised. "In the meantime, rest up and get well."

"Thanks."

Gerrold left the room. Eames leaned over to give Goren a quick kiss and she hurried after him. Turner gave Goren a grin. "Murphy may be a pit bull, but I think she would give him a run for his money. You should have seen her the first time you came around. The doctor tried to manage you, but you were still mostly out of it and very agitated. You're quite the fighter. She went off on the doctor and made him back off so that she could handle you when you came around again."

Goren smiled. "She's something else," he said with affection.

"I can see why you love her."

Goren settled back into the pillows. "I do," he murmured sleepily.

Turner squeezed his arm. "Go to sleep," he suggested. "They're gonna admit you for a couple of days. Decker and I will come by to see you tonight."

"Thanks."

He watched Turner leave from under heavy lids. Once the door closed, he surrendered to the drugs and he slept.


	21. Seeking Contentment

Eames followed Gerrold to the nurses' station, where Murphy and Sanchez waited. She stood by as he told them they could leave. Murphy started to argue, but Gerrold cut him short. "I got their statements and you'll have them later today. The girl's ID of both men is solid. Goren didn't harm her, Murphy; he saved her life. We need to seriously look at this Romeo guy for the other murders."

"Does that mean Goren walks?" Murphy asked, a challenge in his tone.

Gerrold frowned at him. Although he was used to Murphy's challenges and he had no qualms about putting him in his place, he did not like his detective challenging him in front of other officers. It was a bad habit that Murphy needed to break. His voice had a hard edge to it when he said, "Goren isn't going anywhere. Refocus yourself and set your mind on finding the truth behind these crimes. If Goren did it, that will come out, but if he didn't, then we need to find out who did. Justice isn't blind, detective, but in this case, you are. Open your eyes. Now get out of here."

Murphy glared at Eames as he turned to go. She returned his glare with one of intense dislike. He stormed off. Sanchez offered her a shrug and a look of sympathy. She spared a smile for him before he followed his partner. Once they were gone, she turned to Gerrold. "A quick word, captain?"

"Go ahead."

"Goren and I have been partners for almost a decade. I wasn't exaggerating when I said his interrogation skills are unique. He has an uncanny ability to dissociate himself from the crime and connect with the criminal. He can get into their heads, see what made them do it, understand their motivation. He intuitively knows what to say to gain their trust and how to bring it around to get them to confess. Sometimes it's sympathy, sometimes it's anger, but always it's exactly the right thing. He ferrets out their confession and he keeps it legal. He's good. He's very, very good. Let him have a go at the guy."

"They tried to kill each other, detective. Do you think Romeo will give him the time of day?"

"I think he deserves a chance to try. His neck is on the line, Captain Gerrold. You're still looking at him for crimes he didn't commit. There's a good chance this guy did it. You'll never have a better chance at a real confession than you have with him."

Gerrold studied her for a moment. "All right, detective. I'll think about it. We'll see where we are when Romeo is ready to talk."

"Thank you," she said.

She trusted Gerrold. He seemed to be a man of his word, and he had Murphy on a short leash. She returned to Goren's side, and when they came to transfer him to his room on the surgical floor, she stayed with him.

* * *

><p>The room was dark. Well, almost dark. The monitor over his head lent an otherworldly glow to the room, accompanied by a steady beeping sound. He listened to the electronic rhythm. He could barely make out the second hand on the clock on the wall across from his bed. Silently, he counted the beeps as the second hand made a complete sweep of the clock face.<p>

_114_. A little fast, but not too bad, considering. He moved and pain flared in a band around his chest, one that grew tighter with each breath. When he tried to take a deeper breath to ease the constriction, he almost passed out from the pain. Somewhere along the way, he must have moaned, because deeper in the room, someone moved. From the shadows, a form appeared, growing more clearly defined as it moved closer to his bedside. Shadows merged and became Eames. Her cool hand brushed over his forehead as she leaned in to look at his face in the glow cast by the monitor. "Hey," she whispered with a smile.

He tried to return it, but he wasn't so successful. God, he hurt. She brushed her lips over his, then withdrew into the shadows. Before he knew it, she was back with a nurse. By that time, he had recovered some of his faculties. The nurse gave him a smile—she had a really nice smile—just before she placed the cold bell of her stethoscope against his chest. He grunted in protest. Focusing her attention on listening to his lungs, she did not respond. He groaned more softly when the bell came to rest against his injured side. She laid her hand on his arm as she concentrated. Then she shifted the instrument back to his chest and listened to his heart. Finally, she put the cursed thing away and withdrew a syringe from her pocket. "Your lungs sound good," she said quietly. "This will help you to manage your pain."

After a moment, he felt a brief burning sensation in his arm where the IV entered his circulatory system. Another few moments, and his head began to swim, washing the pain away with its pleasant eddies and gentle waves. He sighed softly and relaxed. More of the pain receded, and he felt so much better. Breathing was easier, his heart rate decreased and he grew sleepy.

The nurse withdrew from his bedside and Eames took her place, sliding her hand into his. He squeezed her hand and smiled sleepily at her. "Feel better?" she asked.

"I still feel like a train wreck, but it doesn't hurt quite so much. The girl...?"

"She's doing okay. They're keeping her for observation."

"And...uh...Romeo?"

"He's in custody. They transferred him to another hospital when they admitted Melody. She had to be sedated when they showed her his picture. She's very fragile right now."

He nodded in agreement. He understood that and expected it. But he had something more important to discuss with her. "I...I was an ass. I'm sorry."

She'd expected his apology. The man would apologize for the sunrise if he thought it upset her in any way. But he'd had every right to react the way he had. "No. I should be the one to apologize. I...betrayed you."

He studied her face and said the first thing that popped into his head. "You are beautiful."

His quiet assertion caught her by surprise. "Did you hear what I said?" she asked.

"I heard you. I still think you're beautiful." He closed his hand around hers. "I love you, Alex."

She couldn't help smiling. She was amused by his inability to follow a conversation, though she did not doubt the sincerity of his assertion. Whatever it was that he felt for her, he chose to call it love, and she didn't question that he believed that's what it was. From the start, he had been more comfortable with their relationship than she had, which she found surprising. He had settled into it early on while she continued to struggle with finding a definition for what they had. He called it love, something she had been unwilling to do...until now. As recently as two weeks ago, she questioned what she felt, wondering if she loved him or if she was simply complacent after a decade of working at his side. Recent events, however, had challenged her feelings and forced her to confront her emotions, something she didn't really like to do. But faced with losing him, she came to realize that what she chose to interpret as familiarity really was love. Their separation had been difficult, though more for him than for her, but now she found, to her surprise, that she did not want to be without him, not for a day or a night—not ever.

She reached out and gently caressed the side of his face with her fingertips. He gave her another sleepy smile and she leaned down to kiss him. When she began to pull away, however, he slid his fingers into her hair and drew her into a deeper kiss. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arm around her, seeking to explore her mouth with his tongue. When she relaxed her mouth, he made a soft noise, tightening his arm around her. He sent her head spinning and she leaned into him...until he gasped in pain.

She withdrew quickly. "Bobby?"

Taking a moment to recover, he grasped her arm, holding a little more tightly to her than he intended. As the pain ebbed, he released her with a quick apology. "I...I didn't mean to..." he began.

She silenced him with another kiss. "You didn't," she assured him, deeply disappointed at their current circumstance. "Did I hurt you?"

That was ridiculous question, she realized, too late. Of course she'd hurt him. Otherwise he would not have gasped in pain. But he dismissed her fears. "I'm fine," he said, though his voice was tight.

"You are not fine, Goren," she chided. "You have five broken ribs. That's _not_ fine. That son of a bitch hurt you badly."

"He didn't do anything I didn't let him do. I just...I needed to give her a chance to get away, to find someplace safe."

"And you did that by letting Romeo kick the crap out of you?"

He shrugged. "He, uh, he did a bit more damage than I intended. Unless they're under the influence of something that removes their inhibitions, most people have a natural reserve. I should have suspected he didn't have it to start with. Most sociopaths and psychopaths don't. I'm certain he killed Cassie, but it kind of slipped my mind that he might have killed the other girls as well."

She gave him a look of disbelief. "How did that slip your mind?"

"I was...distracted when I came across him with the girl. I wasn't thinking about much of anything, except you."

Her cheeks flushed with color. "Me?"

He rested his hand against her cheek. "You," he affirmed. "Do you really have no idea what you do to me, Alex? You twist me and turn me until I don't know which way is up. I'm so full of..." His mind wasn't cooperating with him, and he was at a loss for words. "I don't know...I just..."

She ran her fingers over his lips. "You're really not in any condition to have this talk with me. Go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"You'll come back?"

"Come back? Baby, I'm not going anywhere."

His brow furrowed with concern. "Where do you plan to sleep?"

"I'll be fine in the chair here."

He shook his head. "No..."

"Yes. Now go to sleep."

The thought of her trying to get comfortable in a chair while he slept in a bed did not sit well with him at all. Bracing himself, he shifted his position in the bed, swallowing a deep groan of pain. She tried to protest, but the near-blinding pain eclipsed whatever she was saying. Struggling to keep his breathing slow and shallow, and not having much success, he positioned himself on his uninjured side. Gradually, the pain eased, and he felt an overwhelming fatigue settled over him like a mantle. Battling his body, he kept the darkness at bay and gently tugged on her hand. "Come on," he muttered, trying to force normal inflection into his tone.

"Bobby..."

He tugged again. "Please. I'll...sleep better..."

She still hesitated, but not for long. Slipping off her shoes, she slid into the bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his body. She started to move away. "I don't want to hurt you."

He pulled her back. "You won't. You can only...help me by being close."

Finally, she let him gently position her exactly where he wanted her. With her back against his torso, she felt him gently nestle into the curves of her body. He shifted to kiss her neck a few times before laying his head against his pillow. Gradually, his body relaxed against hers. His breathing settled into an easy rhythm and he exhaled gently into her hair. His hand slowly stroked her side before coming to rest on the bed in front of them, his arm across her torso. He shifted a little and his hand rested against her breasts though not in any way provocative. Mostly asleep, he murmured softly into her ear, "I love you, Alex."

She sighed softly, feeling warm and safe and content. She rested her arm on top of his and curled her fingers around his hand. "I love you, too," she answered.

She knew from his breathing and the heaviness of his body against hers that he had drifted to sleep. She was not far behind.


	22. Fuzzy Reasoning

The next morning, Eames stirred first, and her movements woke the man beside her. His arms tightened around her, pulling her close as he gently nuzzled her hair. As he became more aware, his pain quickly increased in intensity. He closed his eyes, fighting to regain control. He didn't notice she'd slipped from his arms until she returned with a nurse in tow.

The nurse quickly examined him and then injected the medicine she'd brought into his IV line. "The doctor ordered another scan this morning. I'll call radiology and tell them to come to get you. Then we can decide what needs to happen to get you better quickly."

The nurse waited, studying him to gauge the effectiveness of the medication she'd given him. As the pain came under control, he began to relax and the nurse left the room, satisfied that he was okay for the moment.

Goren waited until the nurse was gone before he reached out and gently grasped Eames' hand, drawing her closer. "Thank you," he murmured as he gently kissed her palm.

"For what?" she asked as his lips brushed the heel of her hand and then the inside of her wrist.

He felt her tremble, and he smiled, slowly working his way toward her shoulder, placing tender kisses along the most sensitive part of her arm. He didn't answer her, and she forgot that she had asked the question. He pushed his remaining pain to the back of his mind as he focused on her arm, and when he flicked his tongue across the sensitive skin on the inside of her elbow, she about came undone.

Neither of them noticed the doctor had entered the room until he cleared his throat. Color suffused Eames' face as she pulled her arm from her partner's grasp. He let her withdraw, smiling as he met her eyes, which were dark with desire. With his pain under control, he felt his own desire skyrocket, and he resented being injured. The doctor approached the bedside, a small smile on his face. "Good morning," he said pleasantly. "Sorry to interrupt. Am I stretching it in saying you're feeling better?"

The corner of Goren's mouth arced into a half-smile. "I don't think I'd go that far," he admitted. "It's more along the lines of good pain control."

"I'm glad to hear that. They should be up shortly from radiology to take you down for another scan. I am not happy with that displaced rib fracture on your right side. It's a dangerous injury, unlikely to heal on its own."

Much calmer now, Goren asked, "So how do you propose to treat it?"

"I am looking at two options. Unfortunately, they're both surgical options. I don't think we're going to avoid surgery."

"Then why bother with another scan?"

"I need the scan to re-evaluate the severity of the fracture. That will show me which option is the better one."

Eames had moved to the bedside, silently slipping her hand into his. He gently squeezed and said, "Okay. Let's hear it. What are the options?"

"If it's possible, I want to re-attach the rib to the spine. I'll set the rib back in position, then secure it in place with a metal plate and surgical screws."

"And if it's not possible?"

"Then I'll have to simply remove the rib."

Goren considered the two options. "Will either procedure affect my ability to do my job?"

"No, but either way, you're still looking at a 6 to 8 week convalescence."

"What do you expect to have changed since last night?"

"I'm afraid the rib has shifted. It could be in a position to injure your lung or your liver. I need to compare its position to the last scan, and make sure there has been no further damage."

"So either way, it looks like surgery is in my immediate future."

The doctor nodded. "Unfortunately. I've reserved a surgical suite for five this afternoon."

Goren sighed, groaning at the pain that flared at the movement of his chest. The doctor offered another sympathetic smile before he left the room. Eames sat on the edge of the bed at his side, cradling his hand in hers as she held it in her lap. Neither of them spoke, and he gently rubbed her back with his free hand until they came to take him to radiology. She kissed him softly, promising to wait right there until he returned.

He told her to go get coffee and something to eat, promising to behave while in her absence. She mouthed 'I love you', to which he responded with a sweet smile and a roguish wink that caused her heart to flutter. She did as he asked and made a trip to the cafeteria for coffee and a quick bite to eat. Then she hurried back to his room to wait for him.

* * *

><p>He wasn't back in his room very long when a visitor arrived. She crossed the room and opened the door, surprised to find Ross standing there. "Logan's parking the car," he said as he entered the room, his grey eyes settling on Goren. Ross never seemed to know exactly what to make of him. "How do you feel, detective?"<p>

"Sore as hell," Goren replied.

He wasn't often grateful for pain medicine; he resented the fuzziness he felt as a side effect. At the moment, though, he welcomed it. It put a distance between him and Ross that he needed. His gaze shifted from Ross to Eames, who once again ran interference for her partner. "The doctors are saying he will need surgery to deal with one of his injuries," she said. "Romeo managed to fracture and displace the last rib on his right side, and they have to operate to avoid potentially lethal complications later."

Ross looked concerned. "Did they say it would impact his ability to return to duty?"

Eames glanced toward Goren, who was quietly watching them, seemingly relieved she was doing the talking for him. Sometimes, he was irritated when they talked about him as though he were not in the room, but that did not seem to be the case now, so she went on. "It won't. He should be able to return to full duty in six to eight weeks."

Ross returned his gaze to Goren. "How will you occupy your time for eight weeks if you can't work?"

Goren's eyes began to shift toward Eames, but the door opened, diverting his attention to Logan instead. He grinned at his friend, then looked back at Ross. "I'll manage to find something to occupy my time," he said. He finally did look at Eames. "I should be able to complete my work for the Bureau so I can move back home to finish recuperating. When I'm returned to duty, I hope it will be back to Major Case."

"Don't jump the gun on that, detective. The doctors will have to approve your return to work, even on modified duty."

Goren scowled. "The Bureau won't want to put this project on hold," he complained. "I can do the work I've been doing. I'm not out in the field. I can sit at a damn desk. And technically, I wasn't injured while on duty."

Logan flopped down into a chair near the bed. "Let Turner hash it out with the doctors. It'll all work out."

Eames looked at each man in turn. When her eyes met Goren's, she caught a flash of desire that she hoped Ross didn't see. The corner of his mouth turned up a little when her face colored, and he raised and lowered his eyebrows at her. She glanced at Ross, who was moving a chair closer to Logan, and mouthed, _Quit it_. Goren's face relaxed into a full smile, which she returned. Her heart did a little flip at the open love she saw in his eyes half a second before he looked away, his face once more shaded with pain. Although Ross had missed the exchange, Logan had not, and he grinned at Eames. She scowled at him and he almost laughed. Looking at Goren, he shared a knowing smile with him. Eames sat lightly on the bed near Goren's knee.

Ross had taken a seat in the chair, unaware he had missed anything. Returning his attention to Goren, he noticed where Eames had chosen to sit, but said nothing about it. He knew that the partners were close and if she wasn't bothering Goren, he wasn't going to be concerned with it. "Let's talk about Romeo for a minute. Do you feel up to it?"

"Go ahead," Goren replied.

Some of the fuzziness in his head had retreated, replaced with pain, but it wasn't time for his next dose of pain medicine. As long as he didn't move too much and he kept his breathing slow and shallow, the pain was manageable. As long as Eames and Logan didn't make him laugh, which wasn't such a sure bet for either of them, he could handle it. Perhaps keeping the conversation on a serious note would put a cap on Logan's humorous side, but Eames...she had a habit of saying things, sometimes in innocence, that made him laugh. Most of the time it was not deliberate, but sometimes, it was. She had a little streak of sadism in her, he'd discovered, that he found oddly arousing, but he didn't want to test the waters in their present company. Besides, his injury was too fresh, and she was worried about him, so she wasn't likely to make him laugh intentionally, not yet. There would be plenty of time to joke around as he healed, once the surgery was over and he was on the mend.

Ross shifted in his seat, relaxing a little. He was as uncomfortable with Goren as Goren was with him, and work talk served as a buffer between them. "Gerrold asked me about your interrogation skills. He said that Eames asked him to let you interrogate Romeo, that their best bet for getting a confession from him lies with you."

Goren looked at his partner, who nodded. He returned his attention to Ross. "What did you say?"

"I told him that I agreed with her. I've never seen a more skilled interrogator than you."

Goren's eyes darted away from the captain, color rising to his face at Ross' compliment. "Uh...thank you."

"It's the truth. Now tell me what you think about it. Do you want a shot at him?"

Eames made a soft noise. "I'd love one," she snorted. "Preferably a .44."

Goren smiled and she met his eyes. Her sharp wit always got him. Reaching out, she laid her hand on his leg, just below his knee. He tensed at the contact, which sent pain shooting through his side. He swallowed a soft groan. Logan didn't miss the exchange, and he spoke up, diverting Ross' attention to him. "So, let's recap. We know that Romeo tried to rape Melody Whitlock. And he's the guy you saw outside the bar the night Cassie was killed, right?"

Goren nodded, distracted by his partner's hand. "Ah, yes. I...His eyes...I remembered those eyes."

Logan said, "He's the guy with the dead eyes?"

Goren shifted his attention to Logan with difficulty. For Ross' benefit, he explained, "I notice things, things other people miss. When I saw him...saw...those eyes...that was something that stayed with me."

"Even though you'd been drinking?" Ross asked, knowing that would come up if the case ever came to trial.

Goren studied him, his expression unreadable to the eye that didn't know him. "Drunk or not, I know what I saw, and it was something that was disturbing enough that I remember it, clearly. I've seen eyes like that before. I've seen them in prisons and in hospitals. His eyes...They're the eyes of a man with no conscience, no soul. He's killed before and he will kill again if we don't stop him, one way or another."

"You could have stopped him that night."

Eames bristled. You don't kick a man when he's down. But Goren sensed her growing anger, seeing it in the tension in her back and the fire in her eyes. He gave his head a slight shake. Ross didn't notice, but she did. Her expression relayed her displeasure, but she remained silent. Ross was playing devil's advocate, whether that was his intention or not. It was something that would come up at trial, if Romeo ever made it that far. Goren leveled a steady gaze at Ross, eyes filled with pain that was only partly physical. "I was drunk," he said quietly, his tone carrying an edge of remorse. "And I was distracted. I didn't make conscious note of him at the time. I should have, but I didn't. He was there, hovering in my memory, waiting to be recalled. He just needed the right prodding."

"Being a suspect in at least one murder wasn't prodding enough?"

"Apparently not." He fell quiet again for a moment, and they let him organize his thoughts. "I'm a cop, but I refuse to be one of those cops who sees everyone as a suspect. Just because serial killers are psychopaths doesn't mean every psychopath is a killer. I try not to fall into the trap of faulty reasoning. Every cat has fur. Dogs have fur, too, but that doesn't make them cats. He wasn't doing anything to make me take notice on a conscious level."

"But something made you remember him," Logan gently prodded.

Again, Goren didn't respond immediately. He tried to avoid being spontaneous, speaking his thoughts uncensored. The drugs in his system made that more difficult. When he finally spoke, he tried to make Ross, in particular, understand his reasoning. "Many things can cause a man to lose his humanity. That by itself doesn't turn him into a murderer. There has to be some driving force behind his actions, some precipitating event or events that sent him over the edge. I don't know what set Romeo off, but he's got a lot of rage in him, and he usually sets that loose on vulnerable women."

Eames knew the moment that it clicked in his head. She watched his entire face light up. "I, uh, I...I need to see the files," he said, suddenly humming with renewed, unbridled energy. "The case files...on the women who were murdered."

He had a theory and he needed to check it out. Eames knew there would be no calming him, except with medication, until he was able to see the police files on the murders. She groaned inwardly. Ross spoke, saying exactly what she was thinking. "There's no way you can see those files, detective. You know that. You're a suspect in this. Professional courtesy doesn't apply."

The pain medicine in Goren's system caused his mind to be sluggish and unfocused, and that annoyed him. Where normally, his thoughts would be racing, trying to figure out a way to get access to MPD's files, now they sort of buzzed about aimlessly, bumping into each other and bouncing away, spinning off in another direction. So it took much longer for the answer to emerge. He looked at Eames. "Lightman," he said.

She nodded. "I'll talk to him."

Both his breathing and his heart rate were up and he was having trouble sitting still. While Eames loved that child-like enthusiasm that he got when he began to make connections in a case, it now made her worry. It wasn't their case, although the outcome was more important to them than the bringing of a killer to justice. They simply did not have access to the information they would need to work the case through to its conclusion.

Logan also saw the agitation in Goren and realized that the medical staff would step in if he didn't calm down. His restlessness was increasing his pain, and soon the medication would be insufficient to control it. "Bobby?" he said, waiting until his friend looked at him before he continued. "What are you thinking? Talk to us."

Goren took a minute to gather his thoughts. "They said there doesn't seem to be any common thread that ties the victims together, but...there has to be."

"Unless this guy didn't kill them," Logan suggested.

Goren shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. "I think he did. The M.O. is the same. Gerrold's men caught the first case, and the others fell to them because of the M.O. They think the same guy killed all five women."

"And they think _you_ are that guy," Ross pointed out.

"But I'm not," he said with a distracted, dismissive wave of his hand. "Romeo wasn't far enough along in his attack of Melody Whitlock to determine an M.O. But I saw him in the same neighborhood, right near the bar where I left Cassie Morton the night she died. It's too much of a coincidence."

"The other four victims were all found in different neighborhoods," Ross said.

"Adjoining neighborhoods on the same side of town...but where were they attacked? We just know where they were dumped. There are too many unknowns to draw solid conclusions."

"But you have a theory," Eames said.

He nodded. "I do. Cassie was recovering from a rough break-up. She was upset and hurt, and she was looking for someone to help her get over that hurt. The more she had to drink, the more she thought she knew what she wanted."

"Sex," Logan said. "And she picked you out to give it to her."

"She had it in her head that sex was what she wanted, but when I turned her down, she wasn't ready to abandon her search."

Logan grinned. "She was horny and she wanted it, so she went looking for it."

"In a nutshell." He looked at Eames. "Uh, what about Melody?"

"She's a scared kid who got in over her head. If you hadn't come along..."

He cut her off impatiently. "Was she looking for sex?"

She ignored his impatience. "She thought she was. When he took her into that alley, she got scared and tried to back out, but he wouldn't let her go."

"Because he'd targeted her. When I interrupted him, he took out his fury on me instead of her, but I was more of a match for him than she ever could be."

Logan nodded. "Rage like that would have destroyed a pretty little thing like her."

"None of the other victims showed signs of that rage," Ross commented.

"Maybe they didn't fight hard enough," Logan suggested.

Goren shook his head. "No. As soon as they realized what was going on, they would have fought for their lives. He did something to overpower them or immobilize them. Or maybe they simply didn't trigger that rage in him...and I did." He shifted restlessly, groaning softly when his pain flared. "I need to see those files."

The door to the room opened and a nurse looked around at them. "Okay, folks, party's over," she announced.

Goren glared at her as soon as he saw the syringe in her hand. "This is important," he protested.

She stepped to his bedside and cleaned off a port in his IV line. "So is this. You need to calm down."

"But I..."

Waggling her finger at him, she said, "I gave you enough of a chance before I came in. You are too worked up." She injected the contents of the syringe into the line. "Sleep well, sweet prince."

The medicine took effect quickly, though he fought it. He focused on Eames as his mind grew more blurry. "Eames..." he murmured as the room spun and faded. "You...please..." He reached toward her, and she caught his hand in hers. "Lightman," he finished as the medicine finally won and he slipped away into the darkness.

The nurse ushered Logan and Ross out, but Logan paused in the doorway to look back at her. She gave him a nod, and he understood. He followed Ross out of the room. The nurse gave Eames a small smile. "It was for his own good. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "I know. Uh, how long will he be out?"

"A few hours. By that time, they should be ready for him in surgery."

Eames looked at his bruised face, reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "I have to go out for a little while," she told the nurse. "Will you please call me if he wakes up or if they decide to take him to surgery sooner?"

"Of course I will."

Leaning down, she softly kissed him, and then she left the room.

* * *

><p>Cal Lightman looked up from his desk when Foster came into the room with Eames and Logan. He got to his feet. "Detectives...this is a surprise," he said.<p>

"Dr. Lightman, we have a favor to ask, on Goren's behalf," Eames said, cutting right to the chase.

"Ask away," he said, walking around his desk and leaning back against it.

"He thinks he knows how the victims are connected, but he needs to see the case files in order to tie it all together. Is there any way you can help?"

Lightman studied them before he looked at Foster, who shook her head. "He's still a suspect in five murders, even though we don't think he killed anyone. There's no way we can hand over files in an active investigation. You _know_ that."

"But _she_ isn't a suspect," Lightman said. "She's a detective..."

"...with another department."

"Who is investigating the same crime."

"But not officially."

The partners faced off with Eames standing between them and Logan watching, amused. Finally, Lightman looked at Eames. "Would you excuse us for a minute, love?"

She looked from Lightman to Foster and back before silently turning, grabbing Logan by the arm and leaving the room with him."That was interesting," Logan said as they sat in the reception area, waiting for Lightman and Foster to hash out their differences.

"I suppose," she agreed.

"Whose gonna win?"

"He will, one way or another," came a voice from the other side of the waiting area.

They were approached by a tall young man with wavy brown hair and a young Hispanic woman. "He always gets his way," the young man finished.

The young woman gave him a look, then said, "I'm Ria Torres. This is Eli Loker. You were here the other day with the guy they think killed those five women."

"He didn't kill anyone," Eames insisted vehemently, scowling at them.

Logan touched her arm. "She's protective of him," he offered by way of explanation.

Loker poured himself a cup of coffee, to give himself something to do. It didn't pass his notice that Logan explained Eames' reaction but he did not apologize for it. _Good for them._ "Don't worry. We don't think he's guilty, either."

Eames relaxed a little as they sat down on a sofa across from her and Logan. She shook her head, trying not to sound distressed. "They don't know him. He didn't...he wouldn't..."

"Our boss is impressed with him," Loker said as he sipped his coffee.

Eames studied him with caution. Logan motioned to them. "What about you two?"

Torres nudged Loker and said, "No one impresses Loker. But we just finished reviewing the tapes of Goren's interview with Foster. He's not guilty."

Eames snorted, "Now if only the police could see that."

"It's not a matter of showing them his innocence," Loker said. "You have to gift wrap the man who actually did it and present him to them on a silver platter."

Eames heard a lot of bitterness in Loker's tone. "That's exactly what we're trying to do," she said.

Lightman came into the room before Loker or Torres could say anything more. "I see you've met the children," Lightman said.

Loker scowled at him, but Lightman ignored him. He handed Eames a large, thick envelope. "I sent Foster on an errand," he said.

"In other words," Loker said. "He's doing this behind her back."

Lightman continued to ignore Loker and he motioned toward the door. "On your way now," he said to Eames and Logan.

"Thank you, Dr. Lightman," Eames said, clutching the envelope.

She and Logan left the office before Lightman had a chance to change his mind. Loker glared at his boss. "Do you know what you just did?"

"Not your concern. For all you know, I just gave her pages out of the phone book. Did you watch the tape?"

"He's a hard read," Torres said.

"He's very controlled," Lightman agreed. "So—cop or killer? Come on. Gut reaction."

"I think he's telling the truth," she replied. "But he's protecting someone."

Lightman turned to Loker. "And you?"

"As much as I like debating with Torres, I agree with her. I don't think he's a killer...and he _is_ protecting someone. You know who that is."

Ignoring the challenge in Loker's tone, Lightman said, "If you took a wander through his personnel jacket—which is this thick, by the way—you'd find a cop with authority and anger issues, but not a violent man. Four years undercover with narcotics netted him twenty-seven arrests and twenty-seven convictions, but not one shooting. Eight years on an elite New York squad and again, not one line of duty shooting. His partner, that little thing who just left, has had two. He's genius-smart and a profiler to boot. He knows how to read people, a natural, like you, Torres, for many of the same reasons. He was abused as a kid, raised by a schizophrenic mother and an apathetic, womanizing, alcoholic gambler. He's the biological son of Mark Ford Brady and he was mentored by Declan Gage."

Loker looked impressed. "And he's only in trouble now?"

"He's been in and out of trouble all his life, but this is the first time he's been in trouble this deep."

"What's your read on him?" Torres asked.

"Same as Foster's. He didn't do it." He shook his head slowly and wistfully said, "I wish I could get him to come work for me."

"Why don't you use your charm, like you did with us?" Loker grumbled bitterly.

Lightman shook his head. "It won't work. He loves what he has in New York too much to leave. Let me know if you see anything else."

He walked away, returning to his office, where Foster waited for him. "Well?"

"The geniuses think he's innocent, too."

"Did you give her the files?"

"Yes, and I led them to believe you know nothing about it."

"Cal..."

"Come on, Gill, you know it's the right thing to do."

"But not the legal thing."

"Which is exactly why I kept you out of it. Plausible deniability."

She shook her head slowly. "I swear, Cal..."

"They won't say anything," he said with certainty. "The kind of man he is..."

"What kind of man is he?" she asked when he didn't continue.

He smiled. "You tell me. You interrogated him. What did you see?"

She sighed. "I saw integrity. You're right—no one will ever know he has those files."

"Integrity...and what else? When he looked at you, what was in his eyes?"

She was quiet for a long minute. Although she had given no verbal assurance to Goren, silently she had promised to keep his secret. He was deeply in love with his partner, and that was something he desperately needed to keep under wraps. Despite his devotion to the woman he loved, however, he'd found her attractive, and she hadn't missed that. "Attraction. I saw attraction."

Lightman grinned. "Attraction _and_ arousal. He has an eye for pretty women, picked up from the man who raised him, no doubt. But when he talked about _her_, when he looked at _her_, his partner...what did you see then?"

Foster studied him, and she knew that he knew. "You know what he feels," she accused lightly.

"I still want to know what you saw."

"He loves her, Cal. That's what I saw. She is the one he is protecting."

"Exactly."

"He'll go to prison to protect her," she said with certainty.

Lightman agreed, adding, "He'll die to protect her, which is exactly what will happen if that fool Murphy has his way. We can't let it come to that."

"No, we can't," she replied with a nod.

Some of the tension eased from her back and shoulders. They had done the right thing. She had reviewed the tape of her interview with Goren, watching it as an outsider rather than a participant. She picked up on the things Lightman saw, and her interpretation was similar to his. Goren was a handsome man, charming and sweet in an understated way. He was shy, too, a man who didn't want accolades, a reluctant hero. He was a man she could see herself liking, very much, if he were available...but he wasn't. He resented interruptions that prevented him from doing his job, and he was impatient to finish up with the Bureau so he could go home to New York, to the job—and the partner—he loved. She thought how much of a shame it would be if, after all this, his department got a hint of the turn his relationship with Eames had taken. "We need to tread carefully, Cal. They can't know about...about them."

"No, they can't. That's one secret we keep out of our reports. It's an aside, irrelevant."

"Suppose..." she paused. "What if it becomes the evidence they need to prove his innocence?"

Slowly, Lightman shook his head. "That's a bone we can't toss out to them. I gave her my word. It's not evidence and it doesn't have any bearing on the case. It's personal and it has to stay under the carpet."

Foster didn't agree, not entirely. She was not going to stand idly by and watch another innocent man get railroaded by the system. If she had it in her power to provide evidence that would help to exonerate him, then she had to use it. He might be willing to risk prison to keep his relationship secret, but she was not willing to let him. She didn't think Eames would be okay with it, either. If it was possible, she would keep their secret, but only as long as it wasn't needed to help prove his innocence. Although she was not obligated to keep Lightman's word, she had made a promise of her own as well, and she would keep it, however, if it came down to keeping the secret or risking Goren's life...she would choose his life. There was no other choice she could make.


	23. Much to Prove

Eames sat silently beside Goren's bedside once he was returned to his room after surgery. The surgeon had opted for the safer of the two options. He had removed the rib. When Goren dove off the gurney in the emergency room, he had further dislodged the rib and it had damaged his liver. The damage was not severe, though he'd lost enough blood that he'd received two units of blood during surgery and in recovery.

He'd woken briefly in recovery, but he didn't fight the residual anesthesia in his system. They kept him for nearly an hour and a half before sending him to his room, where the nurses continued to take his vitals every fifteen minutes.

Eames remained at his bedside, looking through the files Lightman had given her. Seeing how the detectives had pieced together their case, it was no wonder Murphy was such an ass about Goren possibly getting away. The man was convinced that Goren had killed those women and, given the evidence in the files, she wasn't sure she and Goren would not have arrived at the same conclusion. But much of their reasoning was built on circumstantial evidence and misinterpretation of witness statements.

Larry Devlin, the bartender, told Logan unequivocally that the last man he'd seen with Cassie Morton outside the bar had not been Goren, that Goren had left an hour earlier. He hadn't worded himself as strongly when he talked with the detectives, probably because Murphy had intimidated him. He'd given a statement that was part what he had seen and part what the detectives had wanted him to see. Larry would make a questionable witness for either side.

However they cut it, though, their entire case was built on Goren's presence in the bar that night and his interactions with Cassie Morton. Certainly not the strongest way to build a case, but it was defensible. A good prosecutor could turn an uncertain jury. Goren was definitely in trouble. No wonder Cartwright was so eager to indict. She could also see why the cops were not quite so eager to arrest him. They needed more, and once they did arrest him, Goren's attorney would have access to everything in the file. They were convinced they had the right man, but the evidence was not yet strong enough to support their conviction. They were desperate to trip him up, but Goren was too smart for that. Besides—and most importantly—he didn't do it.

* * *

><p>It was late. The surgery had lasted longer than they had anticipated. Only Logan had stayed and he was sleeping in the chair by the window. Eames was alone to make her own conclusions based on the evidence in front of her, interrupted only by the coming and going of the nurses, who did not bother her.<p>

Unable to sleep, she read through everything, looking for a smoking gun that was not there. The police had nothing definitive. She relaxed a little. It was far from an open and shut case for either side. There would be no clear-cut winner until the jury finished deliberations. Even then, it very well could result in a hung jury, in which case, Cartwright would simply file again. Unless they proved that Romeo had killed those women, or they found the right man if he had not, this was going to become a protracted nightmare with no simple resolution. Even with an acquittal, a cloud would remain over her partner's head, and she was not going to allow that to happen. She was not driving for an acquittal. She wanted a full dismissal. No trial by jury. No questions. She wanted a definitive 'he did not do it' and she would settle for nothing less.

The doctors kept Goren sedated through the night so he would rest. In the morning, they allowed him to waken. Eames stood by the bed with Logan as he woke, so they were the first people he saw. He smiled weakly and held his hand out to her. Returning his smile, she slipped her hand into his and pushed his hair back off his forehead. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He gave that some thought. "I'm okay," he said. "Kinda fuzzy."

"They kept you sedated last night. The fuzziness will fade."

"Did you see Lightman?"

"Yes. You understand we're walking a real tightrope here, don't you?"

"Did he give you what you wanted?"

"He did, and we both acknowledge that the legal basis under which he gave them to me is kind of sketchy."

"No one has to know. Whatever we find out, we can go through Decker."

Logan grinned. "Make your FBI partner look good, huh?"

"He's my partner; he won't turn us in. As long as we get the guy who's killing these women off the street, if we make Decker look good in the process, so much the better. I owe him something for being partners with me."

Eames frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know better than anyone. I'm not the easiest guy in the world to be partners with."

"True."

"Do you have a problem with bringing Decker in on this?"

"Do you trust him?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then I'm fine with it. I trust your judgment."

He seemed calmer, more settled than he'd been when they'd knocked him out the day before. She sat lightly on the edge of the bed beside him and gently fingered his hair. "Was it worth the effort and the risk?" he asked, settling back into the pillows.

"Well, I now know what they have on you."

"Oh?"

"Yep. Not a damn thing. Their case is strongly circumstantial, but we've seen Carver turn a jury on less. I don't know how good Cartwright is, but it isn't worth taking a chance. They built their case around the evening you spent with Cassie Morton, and I strongly believe that Murphy intimidated Larry the bartender into giving a weaker account than the one he gave Mike. He really won't be a great witness for either side. It's gonna boil down to a battle of the lawyers, and I am not willing to put your future in the balance to find out which lawyer is better."

"What about Lightman's evaluation?"

"That will depend on what Cartwright can twist it to mean. It's not a slam dunk for either side."

Logan said, "We'll get you the best defense attorney we can find, but you know how unpredictable juries can be. Cartwright is smart enough to at least try to stack the jury with people who don't like cops. Then he'll play the 'corrupt cop on a power trip' card."

"Let's talk about the victims," Goren pressed, wanting to change the subject. Like Eames, he didn't want to place his life in the hands of a lawyer's ability to sweet-talk a jury. "Six victims, one survivor. There has to be something about these women that caught Romeo's attention, something that they all have in common. It's nothing that's blatantly obvious or it would never have been overlooked, so we may have to do some searching."

Eames said, "I spent more time analyzing the case they've built than looking at the victims. Grab the files we sorted into the magazines over there, Mike."

Logan picked up a stack of magazines and sat on the foot of the bed. "Camouflage," he said with a grin. "You never know when Ross or Gerrold might stop by to say hi."

Goren shifted restlessly, chasing away his fatigue, and he rested his head against his partner's shoulder. She snuggled against him and slid her arm beneath his. "Okay," she said. "First victim."

Logan pulled out the most recent issue of _Sports Illustrated_ and flipped it open. "Stephanie Regan. Thirty-seven. Athletic. Two years ago, she retired from the women's pro basketball circuit and she was trying her hand at golf. She also coached basketball at the Y."

"Married?" Goren asked.

"Uh..." Logan flipped through a few pages. "Divorced. Her ex played major league baseball. He left her for a...oh, this is cliché as hell. Left her for one of the Redskins cheerleaders. Bitter divorce, but no kids. This woman lived in the public eye; her life was an open book. She...hello...what's this..?"

He pulled out another page and examined it silently. Eames made an impatient noise. "What is it?"

"She had a record. Not much of one, but a record nevertheless. Let's see, we have one count of vandalism, suspended sentence. Seems she took a can of hot pink spray paint to hubby's prized black Corvette. She sprayed his new gal's first name on one side of the car and the word 'whore' on the other. Classic."

Goren smiled. "Served him right," he said quietly. "Let me guess. She had to pay for the repaint job."

"Yep. That was three years ago. A year later, she was brought in on a public nuisance charge. Just before her divorce was final, she turned up at the same restaurant her husband was at with his cheerleader hottie and a couple of buddies. She treated two of the buddies to lap dances before hubby lost his cool and assaulted her. She fought back and did some real damage. Busted his arm, and he missed the first two months of the season. She had to get a restraining order on him and the little hottie." He turned a page. "Since he assaulted her first, her lawyer got her off on self-defense. But her little lap dance stunt paid off another way. She started dating one of his buddies. She was still with him when she was killed, but they were having trouble. He moved into a hotel a couple of weeks before she died. Last place she was seen was in a bar where she hit on another guy. He left the bar with her, took her back to his place and, well, you know. I guess she had buyer's remorse 'cause she didn't stay the night. They finished up around two and she went home, only she didn't make it. The guy was cleared. Jealous neighbor saw Stephanie leave alone. Twenty minutes later, she went over and played house with him for the rest of the night."

Eames leaned forward and grabbed the most recent _Newsweek_ from the pile. "Kelly Farragut brings us into the world of politics." She settled against Goren and let him read over her shoulder. "She's the daughter of a Senator from Idaho. Another case of a country kid cutting loose in the big city. She was his youngest daughter, twenty-three years old, and a wild kid. She loved to party and fell in with a wild crowd. She started dating a singer, fell hard for him, and was devastated when he dumped her. The night she died, she'd been at a party with free flowing booze and plenty of recreational drugs. She left with a guy no one claims to have known. One of her friends said she was 'out of control when she got stoned and would hop into bed with anyone who came along.' Nice. The guy she left with was apparently one of those average guys who doesn't stick out in a crowd. Average height, dark hair, seemed nice to the people who remembered talking to him. Sound familiar?"

"It could be Romeo, or a thousand other guys in the city," Goren commented.

"Yeah," Logan said. "But _not_ you."

"Just because she left with him, even if she slept with him, doesn't mean he killed her."

Eames waved a hand at Logan. "Let's not debate that right now. Who was the next victim?"

Logan flipped open that month's _Family Circle_. "A housewife. Tammy Devlin, twenty-eight. Married for a year to an accountant. No kids, but they were preparing. Apparently, hubby isn't the spontaneous type and he wanted to wait until they had a head start on junior's college fund before junior actually came along. Tammy's BFF said he ran like clockwork. You could set your calendar by him. Tammy was still learning to curb her passion, and he got annoyed at her for trying to, uh, seduce him outside his schedule. So he punished her by withholding, uh, his charm. BFF says Tammy was getting desperate, but hubby wouldn't budge, so she went trolling one night for a roll in the hay. Her one night stand became a standing every-other-nighter. She went to see her boyfriend the night she got killed. His roommate confirmed she left, alone, just after ten." He arched his eyebrows. "Looks like the boyfriend is a switch hitter. He spent the rest of the night canoodling with his roommate. Tammy never made it home."

Goren tipped his head and looked at the magazine. "Who picked out the magazines?"

"I did," Logan replied. "Clever, huh?"

He smiled and remained nestled against Eames as Logan pulled out the fourth magazine, the one that held Maggie Coulter's file. _Psychology Today_. Logan knew that particular victim was a sensitive one, and his tone was gentle as he began. "Maggie Coulter was a junior at George Washington University. She was studying psychology. According to her ex-boyfriend, she was interested in what he called 'victim psychology.' She was very much into studying the psychology of sex, rape, torture and violent crime and the effect it has on the victims, male and female. She was also interested in the psychology of the perpetrator. Last semester, she took courses in sexual deviation and fetishism. He said she began looking for people who could give her more insight into those worlds, and she...changed. She became so immersed in what she was studying, she seemed to have lost herself. That was why he broke up with her. No one knows where she was or who she was with the night she died."

Goren had gone very still. Eames was troubled that she couldn't see his face. "Bobby?" she whispered.

"She would have come back," he murmured. "She got lost in the mindset of her study targets, but she would have come back."

He spoke of something he knew very well because he had the same tendency, to get lost in the mind of their quarry. But he always came back. She softly placed a kiss in front of his ear. "I know she would have."

He twisted suddenly, his body becoming rigid as the pain flared. His eyes were bright with a mixture of pain as he focused on her. "You...you believe..."

"Yes, of course I do, because I see it all the time. You get lost, but you always come back. I have never given up on you and I never will."

He didn't turn from her, continuing to study her face. Her fingers lightly touched his chin and she leaned in to kiss him. He buried his hand in her hair and deepened the kiss, which lingered. Finally, she pulled away and he shifted to lay back against the pillows. Sweat beaded on his forehead but he remained focused on Eames.

Once he felt that the emotions in the room had settled, Logan said, "I think she got in over her head. That's why Maggie Coulter died."

Goren nodded. "I think so, too. She had trouble dissociating herself from the culture she was trying to understand. Romeo is a predator. He would have seen her vulnerability and he preyed on it." He was slowly calming, his mind busy enough to pull his attention away from his pain. "He's a killer. There's no question. But I don't think he raped those first five victims. I think they were willing participants and he got carried away. The intensity of the sex he had with them carried over into a murderous frenzy. That's why there were no signs of violence, why they weren't beaten. It was still part of the sex act for him. They just didn't survive it."

Eames frowned. "What about Melody?"

"He misread her. She's a lot younger than she seems and she's inexperienced. She thought she knew what she wanted, but when he tried to give it to her, she panicked. He was too far gone at that point to stop. When I interfered, that sexual energy twisted into rage."

"You're sure about this?" Logan asked.

"I am. Go find Decker. Romeo is our guy. He's a sexual predator, but until Melody, he wasn't a rapist. Decker and I can work out a full profile, and I guarantee he will fit it." He looked at Eames. "If you can get me in a room with him, I can get him to confess."

She nodded. "I have no doubt of that, but you aren't going in there alone. You're in no condition to face a suspect by yourself."

"Decker..."

She shook her head. "No, Bobby. You need _me_ in there. No one else can give you the back up you need with Romeo."

He knew she was right, but he was reluctant. "If he loses it, I won't be able to protect you."

Rather than being annoyed at his dogged determination to be her protector, she leaned closer and brushed her lips over his. "Then I will protect you," she promised.

He rested his hand on the side of her face and focused his attention on her. Softly, he whispered, "I love you."

She leaned closer to him. "I know," she answered, her lips barely touching his mouth. "I love you, too."

With a smile, Logan gathered up the files they were not supposed to have, tucked them away and left to find Decker.

* * *

><p>Logan drove to the Federal Building and checked in to visit Decker. He found the agent at his desk. Decker smiled. "Mike! What brings you here?"<p>

"You heard Goren's surgery went okay, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Turner called me last night."

"How about stepping out to grab some lunch with me?"

Decker rose from his chair. "Great idea! I could use some time out of the office. Martino is driving me nuts."

Once they were in Logan's car, Decker asked, "What's up?"

"We had a breakthrough of sorts. You and Goren have some profiling to do."

"That sounds like fun."

"But first we are gonna stop for lunch because cafeteria food gives me heartburn. How does Chinese sound?"

"Great. There's an excellent little place just around the corner. Take the next left."

* * *

><p>Goren was sleeping when they arrived, and Eames motioned for them to be quiet. "The pain got away from him because he wouldn't let them give him a dose of painkiller when it was due. They had to give him something stronger, and it knocked him out."<p>

"How long's he been out?" Logan asked.

"Since shortly after you left."

Logan motioned for Decker to join him on the far side of the room while Eames retrieved the files. They sat in a huddle. Quietly, Logan said, "We managed to obtain copies of the MPD files on the case."

Decker's eyebrows arched. "Managed to obtain?"

Eames said, "I am a consulting detective."

"Since when?"

"Since Cal Lightman asked me to be one."

Understanding dawned and Decker sat back. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Logan waved a hand. "Legally, he can use a consultant."

"Mike, he _is_ a consultant."

"Right, but she's a detective and it's her job to bring down the bad guys. She may not be officially on the case, but she's still working it, just like we are."

With a sigh, Decker waved his hand. "We can argue semantics later. What did you find?"

Eames held the papers on her lap. "No one ever has to know we got these. The information we used is not proprietary information. It's all out there for anyone to find. This entire file here is full disclosure information. If they ever file charges, his lawyer would have access to all of it."

"Is the case file information there?"

"Yes, but I am the only one who saw it," she assured him.

"All right, detective. What can you tell me?"

"Their case is weak, but so is the defense. At trial, it would be a crap shoot. Ultimately, it would boil down to which lawyer could win over the jury. They have no hard evidence, but they have enough circumstantial evidence to create a prosecutable case."

"That's exactly what I figured. So what did you geniuses work out?"

"Not geniuses," Logan corrected him. "Genius. He just brings us along for the ride."

Decker smiled. "Okay, then, what did he work out?"

"We're not looking for a rapist."

Decker sat in silence, looking from one to the other. "Not...what the hell are you talking about?"

Eames picked up the ball. "Because sex was involved, sometimes rough sex, everyone assumed it was forced. But if you look individually at each victim, she was out there looking for sex. Romeo encountered six women looking for a good time. He gave it to them, but each time, the experience was so intense, he lost control. He's a predator who has become a killer, but he's not a rapist."

Decker gave it some thought. "Has he worked out any of the profile?"

She nodded. "Some of it. He wanted us to get you so the two of you could work out the full profile. He's sure that Romeo is the guy they're looking for."

"Having an accurate profile is a far cry from proving guilt."

"We know that. But if you get him in an interrogation room with Romeo, you'll have everything you need."

Decker shook his head. "No one in their right mind is going to let Romeo anywhere near him. He's in no condition to take on a violent offender."

"He won't be in there alone," Eames said. "I'll be with him. We can get Romeo to tell us what he did, I guarantee it."

"Oh, no. No way..."

Logan grabbed his arm. "It's the only way, Alan. Goren can do it."

"Listen to Logan," Goren said from his bed.

They all looked over at him. Decker got up and approached the bed. "Bobby, that guy tried to kill you."

Goren nodded. "His sexual frustration transformed into blind rage. He was stopped in the middle of what he anticipated to be an intense encounter. He didn't know that Melody would panic and fight him. And he certainly didn't expect anyone else to come along. When his opportunity for sex ran off, he saw red. Work with me here, Alan. He's a sexual predator, but the sex has always been consensual. He looks for vulnerable women who are actively seeking it. These five women, though...they were something different. They tapped into a part of him that he never knew existed and they let out a beast. I know exactly what to say to bring that beast back to the surface. I know what to do to get his confession. I can do it."

"Suppose he loses control again?"

"I'll be right there," Eames promised.

Decker looked at her skeptically. "Alex, there is no doubt in my mind that you can take care of yourself. But this guy's blind rage took down a tough guy twice your size."

Logan placed a hand on Decker's shoulder. "That's why you and I will be standing ready. If Romeo gets out of line, we'll be half a second away to body slam him back into submission. It'll be okay."

Decker looked at the faces around him. Finally, he rested his eyes on his partner's. "How sure are you about this?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

"This is gonna be one hell of a hard sell, partner."

"You can do it. We'll work up a complete profile and I guarantee Romeo will fit it."

"And this interrogation..."

Goren could read Decker's doubt. "I have everything riding on this. If I wasn't completely certain, I wouldn't suggest it."

"Do you have performance anxiety? 'Cause you're gonna have one hell of an audience analyzing every move you make."

Eames sat on the edge of the bed and laid a gentle hand on Goren's chest. "You have never seen him in action. Don't worry. He'll deliver."

Decker studied her, impressed by her unwavering faith. Looking at Logan, he saw the same confidence. Finally, he shifted his gaze to Goren. "Okay, buddy. Let's get to work. Once we nail this profile, I'll sell it. But you've got a lot to prove."

Goren's eyes shifted to Eames. "I have even more to lose."

The four of them got comfortable and began to work. They had to come up with a flawless profile of the man they were after, gambling that Romeo was the man who would fit it. It was the gamble of a lifetime.


	24. A Hard Sell

Vic Turner tapped his fingers on the desk, a habit he resorted to when he was particularly irritated. Seated before his desk, Decker picked up on the cue and remained quiet. He'd asked about the progress MPD was making with Romeo, a topic that immediately got under Turner's skin. MPD was keeping Romeo close, allowing no one to interrogate him except their detectives, and Turner was ready to go over everyone's heads to get his agents in to talk to the guy. He simply had to find the right angle to get the Bureau a toehold. "Last time I talked to Gerrold, they were no closer to getting an ID on Romeo and the guy has clammed up tight."

Decker shifted in his seat. "I think...we should do whatever we can to give Goren a go at him."

Turner looked up at him as though he'd suddenly begun speaking ancient Greek. "Excuse me?"

"In the interrogation room. Let Goren have a go at him. I have a feeling he can get Romeo to open up if anyone can."

"Oh? Where'd this feeling come from? Goren or his friends?"

"Come on, Vic. By all accounts, Goren's a master interrogator. He approaches the line but he never crosses it. He's cracked some tough nuts. This is his neck on the line. The least was can do is let him try. Eames will go in with him and Logan and I will stand by, just in case."

"I can't endorse that, Alan. After what that guy did to Goren, I can't take the chance of putting the two of them together again. Did you ever add water to acid in chemistry class?"

"Look, my initial reaction was the same. Then I listened to them. Goren knows what he's doing and he is willing to take the risk. He thinks this guy is, by nature, more rigidly controlled than he was in the alley that night."

Turner leaned back in his chair. "Okay, pitch your sell. Why does he think that?"

Decker leaned forward in his chair. "We've been running on the assumption this guy is a rapist, a violent offender. But until the Whitlock girl, we don't have any definitive evidence that he raped anyone. There is just as much evidence that the sex was consensual. Rough, maybe, but not necessarily forced. Based on information we have about the women who were killed, they were likely, like Cassie Morton, out looking for sex. Miss Whitlock was too young and too inexperienced to know what she was getting herself into. She got scared and began to fight him off, but he was fired up and needed to keep going. When Goren interfered, his sexual energy transferred itself to his rage and he let it all loose on Goren. This guy has no filters; he's a sociopath, at best. He didn't hold anything in reserve." He shifted again, anxious to share that they were on the right track, which he was sure they were. "We think he works the bars, looking for women to meet his needs, but something happened to him when he was with the first victim, Stephanie Regan. She triggered some kind of..." He hesitated, his memory seeking the words Goren had used to describe the encounter. "...some kind of...primal response in him. He lost control some time during the act and killed her, probably without intending to. After that encounter, he likely wasn't able to think of much else, and he finally went out, seeking a repeat performance. He found it in Kelly Farragut, then in Tammy Devlin, Maggie Coulter and Cassie Morton. Whatever Stephanie unleashed in him, it became insatiable, and he was driven to repeat the experience as often as he could find a willing partner."

Turner let his agents' profile stew in his mind. "Willing participants," he said, letting his mind wrap itself around the idea that the women had not been raped. "I doubt these women were willing participants in their own deaths."

"Of course not, but they didn't know what they were in for. We think that it was just as enjoyable for the women, right to the end. Vic, they didn't fight him. Not one of them. Not until Melody, but she was an innocent, in way over her head, and she got scared. By the time she started to refuse, he was too far gone. He couldn't stop if he tried. When Goren interfered, he had to do something with that energy. The girl was gone, and Goren was the only one there, so he let it loose on Goren. That's not gonna happen in interrogation."

Sitting quietly, Turner tapped his fingers on the desk. "It's a good theory, Alan, but proving it..."

"We don't have to prove it with evidence, Vic. Let Goren talk to him. Eames and Logan both swear the guy will dance Romeo into a confession. Hell, I want to see him in action. I hear it's a sight to behold."

Slowly, a smile found its way onto Turner's face. He agreed with Decker and he wanted to see Goren in action, too. "I don't know...MPD isn't likely to agree."

"You can try. Hell, maybe Lightman will let us use his interrogation room. It's neutral territory. What do we have to lose?"

Turner picked up his pen. "I'll see what I can do, okay? No promises."

"Gerrold seems to actually want justice. Maybe it won't be as hard a sell as you think."

"I'll let you know." He called to Decker as he got to the door. "How is Goren doing?"

"He's still in a lot of pain, but he has a focus for his energy, so he's doing better. He really needs to do this interrogation, Vic. I don't want to see him suffer for something he didn't do, and you and I both know that MPD is barking up the wrong tree. Seems that Goren is his own best chance to prove he's innocent."

Turner's jaw set as he nodded. "I'll do what I can."

Decker couldn't ask for more.

* * *

><p>Quinton Gerrold looked across the table at Vic Turner. "Please tell me you're joking."<p>

Turner shook his head slowly as he took a drink of his scotch and soda. "Not joking, Quint. I think you should give Goren a chance to talk to this hump."

"Why?"

"First of all, it's his neck that's on the line. If he can get a confession from Romeo, where's the harm?"

"He's way too close to this investigation."

"Okay, I'll give you that, but come on, Quint...you've been a cop for a quarter century. You have a cop's instincts and a cop's gut. Do you honestly, in that cop's heart of yours, believe Goren's guilty?"

The conversation paused as the waitress delivered their meals. They watched her hips wriggle away before turning to their meals. Gerrold took a bite of pasta, washing it down with a swig of his rum and coke. "Just between you and me? No. I don't think he's guilty. Not anymore, thanks to Lightman's people."

"So give him this chance. He can't prove it with evidence that's not there. This guy is genius-smart and he's good with words. By all accounts, he's a master interrogator. Eames says he has a way of developing a connection with the people he interrogates and he can nurse a confession from the worst of them before they even know they've confessed. I know you're getting pressure to make an arrest. Don't you want to arrest the right guy?"

"You know I do, but Cartwright doesn't care who he convicts."

"What about you?"

Gerrold shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at being put on the spot. He and Turner shared a past that the FBI agent knew he could call on, and Gerrold was afraid he was going to resort to that. "I care about getting the right guy."

"All right, then. You've got nothing to lose. Talk to Lightman. See if he'll let the interrogation take place in his box. Then you'll have more than enough eyes to see to it that everything is above board."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. "How is Goren doing?" Gerrold asked.

"Better. He's healing well and they expect to release him from the hospital in the next day or so."

"He has no reservations about facing Romeo again?"

"Not that I can tell."

"I'm not so sure about putting them together, alone, in a cage."

"He won't be alone. His partner will go in with him, and I'll have men ready to intervene if things go south."

"Romeo hasn't said a word to anyone since we arrested him. Not a single word. Drives Murphy nuts. What makes you think he'll talk to Goren?"

Turner shrugged. "Maybe he won't. But if he does...well, I'd pay money to see Murphy's reaction."

Gerrold laughed. "Yeah, so would I."

Turner laughed along with him. "So what do you say?"

"Let me think it over, Vic. I'll let you know. Romeo isn't going anywhere."

Turner nodded, but both men knew that Gerrold would approve Turner's request. Goren would have his chance to face Romeo in interrogation, and they were looking forward to watching him at work.

* * *

><p>Logan opened the apartment door and dropped the gym bag he carried off to the side. He turned on the lamp by the couch as Eames came into the apartment with Goren, who was determined not to let his injuries keep him down.<p>

Goren headed straight to the couch and sat down, releasing his breath slowly. He pulled a pill bottle from his pants pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He was annoyed that the trip home from the hospital had taken so much out of him.

Logan went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. Eames leaned forward and grabbed the pill bottle, opening it and dumping two pills into her hand. She placed the tablets in Goren's hand as Logan held out the water. After a moment's hesitation, Goren placed the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the water. He struggled to chase away his irritation. Neither Logan nor Eames deserved to be on the receiving end of his bad mood.

Eames slid her hand on top of his. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I...I'm not really hungry right now. Maybe I'll just lay down for awhile. You two go ahead and eat."

Without appearing to struggle, he got up from the couch and shuffled down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Logan rubbed the back of his head and looked at Eames. "Is it just me or is he in a bad mood?"

"It's not you. He's in a very bad mood. We should just let him be for now. He's angry and frustrated and I can't say I blame him."

"Yeah, me neither. Come on. Let's go grab a bite. My treat."

She offered no argument and left the apartment with Logan.

* * *

><p>Logan and Eames returned a couple of hours later after a nice dinner. She said good night as he got the couch ready for the night and settled in to watch a little TV before bed. He waved his hand. "Good night, sweetheart."<p>

Once down the hall, she slipped quietly into the dark bedroom, closing the door behind her. Standing in the middle of the dark room, she closed her eyes and listened. Goren's breathing was slow and even. She took a t-shirt from the dresser drawer and slowly undressed, pulling the t-shirt over her naked body.

She stood beside the bed and reached out, gently caressing his curls. He made a soft noise, and his arm slid out and around her waist. He pulled her to him and she slid beneath the covers beside him. He nuzzled her neck and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She heard the sleep in his voice, but she smiled and snuggled against him. "What are you sorry for?"

He muttered something into her shoulder, and she laughed quietly. "What?"

She felt his mouth curve into a smile against her skin. "I said, I'm sorry I was such a grouch earlier."

"Oh." She snuggled deeper into his arms, turning her face up to kiss him. "I understand, and I can't say I blame you."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Are you hungry?"

"Not really. I just...want to stay right here with you."

"That's no problem, but you really should eat."

He made a soft noise, focusing his attention on the part of her body hidden by his t-shirt. She laughed again, and he nuzzled her neck. A little laughter from her could dispel his bad mood in a heartbeat. "Wine with dinner?" he murmured.

"A little," she answered with a squirm. "How'd you know?"

"That it was wine? I could smell it on your breath. But I'd know you had something to drink without smelling your breath."

"Oh? How?"

"Your mood, for one."

She slipped her hand under his shirt and caressed his warm skin. "You're always so warm," she whispered.

"And your distractibility."

"Oh? What's your excuse?"

"For being distracted? Just you."

She swallowed another laugh and he smiled again. "You laugh a lot when you're just a little drunk."

"Drunk? I didn't have that much?"

"No? Okay, how much did you have?"

"We shared a bottle...uh...or...maybe two..."

"Uh huh. That's about what I figured."

She playfully smacked his chest. "I am not drunk, Goren."

"Okay," he replied, sliding his other hand under her shirt.

She squirmed some more, trying not to laugh. He nuzzled her ear and gently nipped her earlobe. "Don't hold back," he whispered. "I love your laugh."

"You should laugh more, too," she said.

"I, uhm...I...I'll try."

"Just relax," she said softly. "Relax and it will come."

"Someday, maybe."

"Are you in pain?"

He tightened his arms around her. "I'm...okay..."

"I'll get your medicine...and a sandwich for you. Just give me..."

The rest of her sentence was lost in a deep kiss. She relaxed in his arms, returning his attention. She forgot all about getting him food and medicine, and he forgot about his pain.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Up to bat next: the interrogation of Romeo!**


	25. Blood in the Water

Romeo sat in the white room, waiting patiently for someone to join him. He was inordinately pleased with himself. He'd been in police custody for weeks and, although they were charging him with attempted rape and felony assault, he hadn't given them the satisfaction of any interaction. The longer he remained silent, the more agitated the cops got. He was particularly amused by Murphy, who just got angrier and angrier while he became more and more calm. He was good at this game. There was no way they'd ever identify him. He'd never been arrested so he wasn't in their system. No one in the bar knew him and he had no ID on him when he'd hooked up with that girl.

His brow settled into a scowl as he recalled that night. It was unfortunate for him that he had misjudged her. He knew better than to pick up a woman after he'd had a few drinks, but she'd been so very insistent. He still got hot and bothered when he replayed her advances in his mind, and it was driving him crazy that he'd been unable to sate himself. He was still burning to finish off what she had started, and he'd let his control slip one night with one of the nurses. Now, all the medical staff who dealt with him were male.

For awhile after he found himself in custody, he was able to keep his lust at bay on his own, but that wasn't working any more. He needed a woman, and the sooner he had one, the better. The pressure that built up in his body was beginning to pound in his head. He _needed_ relief. He saw a couple of women lingering about when they brought him in, and he began to try to figure out some way to be left alone with one of them.

* * *

><p>Gerrold was pacing restlessly, shaking his head. "When you said his partner, Vic, I thought you meant Decker."<p>

Turner remained calm, appreciating that Gerrold had enough respect for him to speak with him privately rather than making a scene in front of everyone else. "Eames is his partner back in New York, and they've done this a hundred times. They're an experienced team, and that's what we're going to need to get Romeo. Goren and Decker have never done an interrogation together, and this is not the case for them to start."

"This guy is a creeper. He gives _me_ the creeps. We had to remove the female medical staff and when we brought him in here, he gave Dr. Foster and Lightman's other female staff a lecherous eye. I don't trust him, and I don't want to put a woman in that box with him!"

"Eames can take care of herself, and Goren will be with her."

"Goren has had a rough time lately. He isn't 100% yet."

"No, but he's getting there, quickly. He's ready for this, and he wants Eames in there with him. Decker and Logan will be standing by. Trust me, I'm not happy about putting anyone into a situation that could turn out badly, but we have to get this guy. There's a lot riding on this interrogation, and from what I've been told, Goren and Eames are the ones who can—and will—come through for us. Look at how far your guys have gotten. At least give Goren and Eames a chance."

Gerrold continued to pace as he weighed his options against what Turner told him. Finally, he sighed. "All right. We'll go through with it. But I want Logan and Turner over there, by the door, ready to blast in there at a moment's notice. Romeo is dangerous, but I understand your motivation with Goren still on the radar. I'll give your team their chance, but only this one."

"Thanks, Quint. I can't ask for more than that."

They returned to the group that had gathered to watch Goren and Eames in action.

* * *

><p>The door to the interrogation room opened, and Romeo's face lit up when Eames came through the door. It just got better and better for him. When Goren followed her into the room, though, his expression changed to one of surprise. He pointed a finger at Goren and spoke for the first time since he'd been arrested. "You."<p>

"Good to see you again," Goren said, moving gracefully with no sign of discomfort in his motions or in his expression.

Romeo watched Goren drop a folder on the table and sit across from him. His eyes shifted between the partners. He didn't know what to make of this new development. A woman interrogator accompanied by the guy who'd interrupted his last encounter. He studied Goren, who was dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt and burgundy tie and who carried himself with confidence. His presence here with the little blond could only mean one thing: the man he stood accused of assaulting wasn't some random Good Samaritan. He was a cop. Suddenly, his life became much more complicated.

Goren folded his hands on the table in front of him and looked directly at Romeo. His arrogant confidence made Romeo begin to question just how badly he'd hurt the man. He sure didn't act like a victim of any kind. Facing his assailant, he showed no sign of nervousness, no hesitation, no fear.

"We haven't been properly introduced," Goren said. "I'm FBI Special Agent Goren. This is Detective Eames."

FBI? Worse than a cop, this guy was a Fed. Romeo chose to remain silent, glaring at the two cops who sat across from him. Goren looked back at him, but he said no more. He was going to let Eames take the lead going in, and she was looking forward to it.

"This is your last chance to give us your side of the story, Mr. Romeo," she began. "The DA is ready to move forward with the charges and take you to trial. Let's see..." She made a point of flipping through the file in front of her and reading it, assuming he'd been told the charges against him. "You're looking at a nice chunk of change in a Federal penitentiary."

Romeo's mouth curved into a sneer. "I'll be out in less than ten," he growled. Assault, even of a cop, didn't carry more than a ten year sentence.

Eames stood up and moved away from the table, pacing in the area behind her partner. Goren's tension level shot through the roof when she moved out of his sight; he had no idea what she was doing. Romeo watched her with interest, his eyes burning a lustful path over her body. Goren's left hand curled into a fist but that was the only indication of his displeasure at the change of circumstance. At that moment, he wanted desperately to send Eames from the room and face Romeo on his own, but if they were going to get him, they had to take him off his guard. The best way to do that was to use Eames' gender against him.

"Out in ten," Eames' repeated as she moved behind Goren, fully aware of Romeo's interest and Goren's discomfort. "That's very optimistic. The rape alone will get you seven, at least."

"Rape? I didn't rape no one."

She frowned. "Do you have a lawyer, Mr. Romeo?"

He gave a derisive snort. "I don't need a damn lawyer."

She turned, puffing her chest out just a little. "The charges against you are attempted rape and felony assault of a police officer. I suggest you get a lawyer."

Romeo's eyes fastened on her chest and he shifted in his seat. "Attempted rape," he said hoarsely, licking his lips. "That's a bunch of bull, little lady. She came on to _me_. All I did was kiss her and touch her like she wanted. Then she started crying, the little baby..."

He trailed off as Eames moved again; his hands itched to touch her. Goren reined in his anger and leaned closer to Romeo, his voice soft. "Like what you see?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Romeo nodded before he could stop himself. He didn't take his eyes off Eames. "What would you give?" Goren went on, keeping his voice quiet as he struggled to control himself. He'd never liked using his partner to get a suspect to confess. He liked it even less now.

"Give..." Romeo whispered back, his voice still strained. "For her?"

"For any woman. You miss it, don't you? The soft skin and gentle curves...the heat between you..." Goren watched the man shift again uncomfortably. "Do you like it when they fight?"

Romeo shook his head. "Not unless that's what turns her on. I...made a mistake with the little one. I like my women experienced and she wasn't."

"So you were going to give her experience?"

"The experience of a lifetime. It wouldn't have been rape. I would have had her begging for more. They always do."

Goren arched an eyebrow. "Oh? You're that good?"

"So say the women I've loved."

Goren felt a surge of excitement eclipse his discomfort. They'd hit the right chord, stroking Romeo's ego. "Can I talk to one of them?"

Romeo's eyes shifted reluctantly away from Eames. "One of who?"

"One of the women you've had begging for more."

Romeo didn't answer, shifting his attention back to Eames. Goren wanted to protect her from Romeo's searing glare, but he knew better than to take his eyes away from the man. Romeo was off guard and they needed to keep him that way. Goren leaned in over the table and whispered, "Stephanie Regan."

Romeo reacted to the name before he could stop himself. He retreated quickly, but not before Goren knew: Stephanie Regan was no stranger to him. "She played pro basketball," Goren went on. "I'll bet she had a hot, trim, muscular body. I'll bet money she was some kind of wild, wasn't she? She wanted sex, and she chose you to give it to her. Where did you go? Out back behind the bar?"

Romeo's body trembled with the memory and he shook his head, slowly losing the control upon which he prided himself. Watching Eames, the words tumbled from his mouth and he made no effort to stop them. He _wanted_ to relive that night. "The park. She wanted to do it in the park."

"So you went to the park...found a nice secluded spot..."

Romeo's eyes glazed over as he returned to the park. "No," he murmured, moistening his lips as he rubbed his hands together very slowly, trying to stem his body's reaction to his memories. "No. It was raining, and she didn't want to wait. We did it out in the open, on the grass. The risk...the chance of getting caught...drove her crazy..." He laughed quietly. "She was hot as hell, and she begged me to be rough, so I was. The rougher I got, the better she liked it. Yeah...she wanted more...and more..."

"So you gave her what she wanted."

"Oh, yeah, and then some."

"But...something happened, something unexpected. Something went wrong."

"N-No. Not wrong. Something went...different. But it was so...so..." His hands shook with the effort to control himself and he focused more intently on Eames.

"Powerful?"

"That...and more. Life...death...It was all in my hands." He held his hands up in front of his face. They vibrated as he watched them. "These hands..."

"You'd never had an experience like it."

"Never. And I wanted more. Every day, it got worse because I wanted it so bad."

"You never felt any remorse for taking her life."

Romeo shook his head. No remorse. Just a driving need for _more_...

Goren pressed on. "So you went looking for another woman to _want_ you. And you found Kelly Farragut, and then Tammy Devlin, and then Maggie Coulter."

His voice wavered just a little when he said Maggie Coulter's name. Romeo didn't notice. The blood was pounding in his head and he was too distracted to hear the subtle changes in Goren's tone. But Eames noticed. She stopped her pacing and looked at her partner's strong, broad back, then at Romeo, who was leering at her with hunger in his eyes. Goren was doing exactly what she knew he would do, exactly what she expected him to do. He was leading Romeo in a complicated dance that would spell the suspect's downfall. She wanted to reach out to her partner, to reassure him, but he was as lost in the moment as Romeo and she didn't want to disrupt his momentum.

Romeo was lost to his memories and his renewed lust, which had been growing exponentially since the night he unsuccessfully tried to rape Melody Whitlock. It was getting worse by the minute. Goren knew it and he was closing in. There was blood in the water and, like a hungry shark, he was circling, preparing for the kill.

"What was it like?" Goren asked, once he pulled his emotions back in. "Tell me about it."

Romeo rubbed his hands more quickly, and he enjoyed the warmth generated by the friction. His need was very close to fully consuming him. He kept his control for the moment, but only barely. Lost in the past, he did not take his eyes from Eames as he described each encounter in detail, reliving them in his mind as he further imagined what it would be like to take her. In his delusions, she was begging for it, just by being in the room with him, looking like _that_. She wanted him; he knew she did.

Halfway through Romeo's description of his encounter with Maggie Coulter, Goren couldn't take any more. He slammed the flat of his hand on the table with enough force to shake the table and startle both Eames and Romeo. He stood slowly to his full six-foot-four-inch height and he looked down on Romeo with dark eyes that were filled with barely controlled rage. Eames saw her partner at his most intimidating, and she was concerned that he was close to losing his grip. He was putting the interrogation in jeopardy with his emotions, and unless he could get them to work for him, they could lose it all. Romeo blinked a couple of times, released from the spell of his memories, although his lust remained powerful. He looked from Goren to Eames and back, then he disregarded the threat that Goren might pose and returned his attention to Eames. "You asked what I would give for a woman...for her?" he said with a sneer.

Slowly, Goren leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. He glared at Romeo and growled, "Over my dead body."

Everything happened quickly in the moments that followed. Blind with rage, Romeo exploded out of his chair, hitting Goren full force in the chest as he leaped over the table like a cat. Eames was knocked to the side as the two men slammed into the wall. She hit the ground, stunned. Goren bore the full brunt of Romeo's weight and the inertia behind it as they crashed into the wall. He grunted deeply as white-hot pain exploded in his chest and the air was driven forcibly from his lungs. His vision went dark.

When the lights came back on, Romeo was being tackled by Logan and Decker as he went for Eames. The suspect continued to fight as they wrestled him to the floor and Logan sat on his chest. "Get off me, you baboon!" Romeo demanded.

"Not a chance, slime ball," Logan retorted.

Decker sat on the man's legs and Romeo struggled harder. Four uniformed officers scrambled into the room, slapping cuffs on the immobilized suspect and wrestling him, swearing, from the room.

As Decker and Logan subdued Romeo, Goren fought to catch his breath while on the other side of the struggle, Eames slowly got to her feet, unaware that Goren had been hurt again. She looked to see if they needed her help to keep Romeo under control, but she was reluctant to get near him and she had a feeling Logan wouldn't let her within five feet of him.

Still on the ground against the wall, Goren struggled to breathe until his paralyzed diaphragm began to work again. As the air rushed into oxygen-starved lungs, pain forced it out again. He bit his lip to keep from making a sound and blood trickled down his chin.

Eames moved out of the way as the officers took Romeo out of the room before she noticed that Goren was still on the ground. She took a step toward him, but Logan was closer and he got there first, holding out his hand to Goren and helping him to his feet. "You okay?" he asked.

Goren wiped blood from his mouth and nodded. His chest was burning, but he pushed away the pain as he turned his attention to Eames, his expression profoundly apologetic. She pressed her lips together. She was furious, her anger fueled from several directions, but she didn't want anyone to see that Romeo had rattled her, especially Goren. Hiding herself from him, though, was a challenge that she was not sure she was up to right then. "That guy makes Henry Talbott look like a Boy Scout," she said sharply before walking away and leaving the interrogation room.

Goren wiped more blood from his bloody lip, wondering what the hell his partner had to be angry about. "Who's Henry Talbott?" Logan asked.

"A lawyer who preyed on petite women like Eames. I...uh, we...we used her as bait in the interrogation. He was a slimy bastard and she didn't appreciate it, but she went along with it and we got him."

Logan wagged his finger. "So that act...you planned it?"

Goren shook his head, his emotions still reeling about in a tangled jumble. "No. She did that on her own. I wish she'd have said something."

Decker grinned. "She was a helluva lot more effective than I would have been."

Goren made a soft noise in his throat, then walked away from the two men. It was time to face the music with Gerrold's men and the ADA.

* * *

><p>There were too many people around and Goren was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He held his hands in tight fists and tried to focus on the pain in his chest as a distraction from becoming completely overwhelmed.<p>

Gerrold extended his hand as Goren joined the group in the room outside and below the interrogation chamber. He was pleased when Goren accepted it. "That was an...interesting approach," he said.

"It worked."

"Yeah, it worked. And it puts you in the clear."

Lightman crossed the room toward them, smiling broadly. "That was brilliant," he exclaimed, visibly excited. "I don't think I've ever seen a suspect's weaknesses exploited so thoroughly before. Are you absolutely sure you won't come to work for me?"

"Thank you, but I have a job and I want to get back to it."

"If you change your mind, I'm only a phone call away."

The corner of Goren's mouth rose into a half-smile. "Don't wait by your phone, Dr. Lightman."

As Goren moved away from Lightman, Cartwright called to him. "Agent Goren, you call that an interrogation?"

"Call it what you want. You have your confession and it's admissible."

"Do you know how many times you toed the line that would have made that whole fiasco worthless to me?"

"It doesn't matter how close I came, Mr. Cartwright. I never crossed that line."

The ADA studied him. "You know exactly where to stop, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. And that's exactly where I stop."

Cartwright shook his head. "I'm glad you don't work in my district."

"You're not the only one," Goren muttered, turning away from the lawyer.

Ross stood waiting for him as he turned, unaware that Goren was very close to losing the tenuous control he had on himself. "You're in the clear, detective. That was an interesting move, using Eames to bait him that way. I would never have expected that from you."

"Don't look at me, captain. It wasn't my idea; I didn't know she was going to do it."

Ross almost smiled. "That explains why you were so agitated."

Goren nodded without commenting, annoyed that Ross was amused. There were too many ways that the interrogation could have gone wrong, and every one of them was running through his head.

He looked around for Eames, but she wasn't there. Murphy and his partner were also gone. Before he could process anything more, he found himself being steered clear of the crowd by Logan and Decker. Once on the sidewalk outside, away from the cluster of people that caused the walls to close in on him, he began to relax, relieved to be out of the building and away from so many prying eyes. Logan gently nudged him. "It was getting to be a bit much in there, huh, buddy?"

Goren nodded, realizing with a touch of surprise just how well Logan knew him. "I, uhm, thanks."

Logan grinned. "I figured it was better to make our escape than to have you lose your cool with so many eyes to witness it."

He met Logan's eyes and gave him a grateful nod. He had been close to snapping, especially after realizing that Eames was gone. "Did either of you see Eames leave?" he asked.

Neither man did, which increased Goren's agitation. Although they got the results they were after, the interrogation had not gone as planned. Eames' impromptu performance for Romeo had worked, but it left Goren deeply unsettled, and his emotions were slowly settling in as anger.

* * *

><p>They stopped off at a local bar on the way home, and Goren didn't object. His hands were still shaking and he wasn't sure what he was going to say to Eames. The three men bellied up to the bar and ordered their drinks. Logan and Decker were in great spirits, but Goren's mood was dark and angry.<p>

Logan leaned in after their third drink and asked, "What's the matter with you? You're no longer in the shadow of MPD's investigation. You're free and clear, man."

"I know."

"So cheer up. Don't worry about Eames. That guy creeped _me_ out so I don't blame her for wanting to get the hell out of dodge right away."

Goren nodded. Logan had a point. But she could have said something to him. Reminding him of Talbott and the fact that it had been his idea back then to toss her to the wolf had fueled his growing anger. She'd been mad at him for the Talbott interview, then she played the exact same game with Romeo, only she did it without conferring with him. She must have known he would have vetoed it if she'd suggested it this time around. In fact, if she'd said anything, he would not have taken her into that interrogation with him, and she probably knew it. His busy mind suddenly slipped down another path: _why _would he have vetoed it? How different was Romeo than Talbott? Both men had murdered women with whom they'd had sex. Each man was creepy in his own way. Was it possible she was angry because he'd lost control and disrupted the interrogation? He'd allowed his emotions to get away from him, but he couldn't listen to Romeo talk about Maggie Coulter that way. He had to shut him down. It was all he could do to keep his rage under control. Eames must have seen that. The energy of his roiling emotions continued to feed his growing anger. How could she have taken such a chance, with him still recovering from his injuries, without giving him a heads'-up? He was ill-prepared for it and he'd gotten injured again because of it, though he'd managed—though just barely—to hide it. Unable to regain control of his emotions and seeking to ease his pain, he ordered another drink.


	26. Fallout

They were at the bar for nearly an hour when Logan realized he had made a serious mistake. Distracted by Decker, without trying to read his friend, he had made the mistake of thinking that Goren's mood was light because he thought it should be. He made a few attempts to draw his friend into conversation, but when Goren chose to respond to him, he used one word answers or grunts.

As the night wore on and the scotch continued to flow, Goren's already dark mood grew darker, driven by his anger, which began to spiral out of control, unchecked. It was all he could do to hold his temper in check and not lash out at his companions, but that control was beginning to slip.

At Decker's suggestion, they grabbed a pool table and racked up to play. Goren opted to sit out the first game, and Decker won the coin toss for the break. While Decker lined up his shot, Logan leaned against the wall by Goren, daring another attempt at conversation. "You don't seem to be in a good mood," he said. "What's up with that?"

Goren shrugged, but he didn't answer.

"Come on," Logan pressed. "Talk to me."

Goren remained quiet until it was Logan's shot. "Hold that thought," Logan muttered as he walked to the pool table.

"You okay?" Decker asked, taking Logan's place against the wall.

"I'm fine."

Decker knew Goren as a quiet guy, so his taciturn withdrawal didn't raise any red flags with him. Goren had been lonely and miserable since his arrival in Washington. His entire personality had been quietly withdrawn for the entire time Decker had known him. Logan knew him much better, knew his baseline demeanor and could tell when he was troubled.

Logan and Decker switched places again. "You gonna talk to me?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"Come on, man. Don't feed me a line. I know better. That's the most you've said to me all night."

Goren fell silent again, more interested in his drink than in his friend, another tell-tale sign of his troubled mind. Logan had been badgering him all night, but Goren kept his temper, stewing in silence. He wasn't mad at Logan, and he had experience with shutting out his friend when he was being annoying. Without that patience and experience, he would have broken Logan's nose long ago—and probably more than once.

Goren continued to tolerate Logan's persistence as the game went on. As Logan lined up the 8-ball to win the game, Goren went outside for a smoke. He was barely halfway done with his cigarette when Logan found him in the alley beside the bar. Leaning against the wall beside Goren, Logan said, "Remember that little dive in the Bronx we went to after that Yankees game a couple of years ago? I found you outside, in an alley a lot like this, with that barmaid. All I remember about her was that she was..." His hands formed the outline of an hourglass figure and then cupped in front of his chest. "Wow."

Goren grinned for the first time all day. "Yeah, she was...uhm, adventurous," he answered in a tone that sounded almost wistful.

"Do you miss them? Those one night stands?"

Goren gave it some thought. "Sometimes. I miss the anonymity. There were no expectations. None. If I fucked up, there was no accountability. I never had to say 'I'm sorry' because there were no regrets."

"And now?"

"Now...I'm sorry for everything. All I ever do is apologize. But...I didn't do anything wrong today. Okay, I disrupted the interrogation because I let my emotions get the better of me, but I'm not sorry for that! I...I won't apologize for caring too damn much!"

"Do you think she expects you to?"

"Why else would she be mad?"

"What makes you think she's mad?"

"She left, Mike. She left without saying a word to me. She hasn't called. Not once. No texts, nothing. Trust me. She's pissed."

"Okay, she's pissed—but so are you."

"And? Why does that matter?"

Logan never understood how Goren could put so much into a simple question. "First of all, you never give yourself the credit you deserve. You do matter, and so do your feelings. Second, why are you _so_ angry?"

When Goren raised his cigarette to his mouth, his hand was shaking. "She...do you know...I mean..."

He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, to calm his roiling emotions. Logan remained silent, giving his friend the time he needed to compose himself. After finishing his cigarette, he tossed the butt to the ground and said, "That interrogation was a tricky one. Romeo is unpredictable and dangerous. What she did was risky. Not telling me about it was downright dangerous. She's...she's lucky it turned out the way it did. She's lucky you were there, because I was useless."

Logan frowned. "Useless? Buddy, he slammed you into a wall. You're lucky he didn't hurt you."

Goren grunted, but he didn't comment. Logan stepped away from the wall and looked at him. "He didn't, did he?"

Ignoring the question, Goren said, "My point is...she should have discussed it with me."

"What would have changed if she had?"

"What difference does that make? The point is..." He paused as if gathering the fortitude to finish his statement. "She...didn't _trust_ me."

"Do you really believe that? Do you think trust has anything to do with it? Answer my question, Bobby. What would have changed if she told you?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't have let her do that. I...I would have taken Decker in there with me. Or you."

"Why? How was it okay back when you interrogated Talbott but not okay with Romeo? Maybe she didn't tell you because she knows you too well. Face it, man. She's the one you needed in there. You couldn't have done this one without her."

Goren got very still, then he dropped his cigarette and, without saying another word, he walked away, out of the alley. Logan started after him. "Bobby?"

"Back off, Logan," he growled.

Surprised by his tone, Logan stopped, silently watching him walk down the block and around the corner. After another moment of hesitation, he made a noise of frustration, tossed up his hands and went back into the bar to play some more pool with Decker.

After one more game of pool, Logan's concern for Goren and his state of mind overcame his irritation over the way he had spoken to him. Assuming he wasn't going to go home, he enlisted Decker's aid and they left the bar to search for Goren.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until after midnight that worry began to eclipse Eames' anger. She'd expected Goren to be home by now. Sitting on the couch, she held her phone in her hands and turned it over and over as she considered her best course of action. She wanted to hold onto her anger, but she found it slipping away. Since they'd become lovers, she found it increasingly difficult to hold a grudge against him. Although her anger that afternoon had been directed at him, he wasn't really the focus of it. Romeo was the true object of her rage. Romeo was responsible for the whole hot damn mess, yet he felt no responsibility for it at all. To him, the women's deaths were incidental, merely a consequence of his twisted desire. From his perspective, they enjoyed every moment leading to their last breaths. While she was willing to concede that they had been actively seeking a sexual partner with little concern for who that partner was and that perhaps they had enjoyed their encounters with Romeo, they did not deserve to die for their lack of judgment. Additionally, Romeo did not care that another man was suspected of his crimes.<p>

Her skin crawled as she recalled every lecherous look he gave her; she'd already showered twice. He was every bit as creepy and slimy as Henry Talbott had been. Goren hadn't seemed reluctant to offer her as bait to Talbott, but she'd never really discussed it with him. Perhaps he had felt some kind of remorse. She'd always assumed he had no problem with it because of the ease with which he'd seemed to ask. The one way in which Goren was entirely predictable was the way he approached criminal interrogations: use any means necessary and available to elicit a confession. The man couldn't open up to her, someone who cared about him and loved him deeply, but he would tell a suspect his deepest, darkest secrets if it would form a connection that led to a confession. So why was he so agitated that she had used the same tactic with Romeo, that she had used whatever means at her disposal to help him lead the man into a confession? Was it because it hadn't been his idea? She felt no remorse for making the decision and not bringing him in on it. Trapped by his own ego, Romeo suspected nothing. Although she'd led Romeo on, it was all an act and Goren knew it. They'd gotten their confession, so it was worth the risk. The ends totally justified the means: Goren was cleared of suspicion. So where had his anger come from? Was he angry because she had made a decision without him? How many times had he done the same to her, playing a hunch while keeping her in the dark? Turnabout was fair play, whether he appreciated it or not.

In the back of her mind, another explanation crept forward, unwanted. Could his agitation and anger have been driven by his emotions? Did his feelings for her ambush him in that interrogation, the place they least belonged? And what, exactly, drove his explosive reaction to Romeo's narrative of his encounter with Maggie Coulter? His outburst had taken her completely by surprise. He had a lot of explaining to do.

As she settled away from her anger, though, Romeo's attack replayed in her mind. She wasn't sure how she'd been knocked out of the way, but she had and she was willing to bet that hadn't been coincidence. Although Romeo's attack had been unexpected, it would not surprise her at all to learn that Goren had retained enough presence of mind to shove her out of the way, failing to protect himself to make certain she was out of harm's way. Logan and Decker had rushed into the room to tackle Romeo as she got to her feet, but Goren had not been so quick to recover. Before she could make her way to him, Logan had helped him to his feet and he seemed to be okay, so she'd made her comment about Talbott and left. The last thing she wanted was to let her anger loose on him in front of so many people. He didn't deserve that. So she went for a walk, a method of coping with overwhelming emotions that she'd picked up from him, and then she'd gotten a taxi back to his apartment, letting herself in with the key he had given her. She'd expected him to be there, but he wasn't. Perhaps that had been for the best, since she was still fairly angry, but she was disappointed. She'd been spoiling for a fight to disseminate the last of her anger.

As time passed, concern finally overrode that anger, fully taking its place as the clock slipped past midnight. Finally, she called him, but his phone went right to voicemail. She waited another hour, until the time approached one o'clock, before she called Logan.

* * *

><p>Logan looked at his phone as they left yet another bar. "Hell," he grumbled. Taking a deep breath, he answered, "Logan."<p>

"Mike, is Bobby with you?"

Well, he wasn't home. "Uh, he was."

"Was? Meaning he's not any more?"

"Yeah, that would be what that means."

She paused to bite back a snippy retort. "Talk to me, Logan."

Logan looked at Decker and mouthed 'Eames.' Decker had the grace to look sympathetic. He learned fast. Taking a deep breath, he plunged in. "After we left Lightman's, we stopped for a few drinks and to play some pool. I...I didn't realize how dark his mood was right away."

"How dark was it?"

"Really, really dark. Kind of black."

"And you _let_ him take off?"

"Let him? What choice do you think he gave me? He told me to back off and I did what he wanted."

Eames had a flashback to the time Goren had reacted to her that way, anger crashing into concern and earning him her ire. She closed her eyes. "So what are you doing now?"

"Well, Decker and I are bouncing around from dive to dive, looking for his stupid ass."

"Did he say anything?"

"You mean before he told me to back off?"

"Mike..."

"He didn't say much, no."

"What _did_ he say?"

Logan considered what to say that wouldn't get his friend in even deeper hot water when he finally did turn up. "He's concerned that you're mad."

"So he decided talking to me about it was a bad idea?"

"Well, he's kind of angry, too. I think he didn't want to turn that on you, so he's trying to work his way through it."

"By swimming to the bottom of a whiskey bottle?"

"You know how he gets."

She certainly did, and that made her worry more. She leaned back on the couch, drawing her legs up to try easing the pain in the pit of her stomach. "He's not okay, is he?"

Logan hesitated, finally deciding that if he lied to her, it would not go well for him when she discovered the truth—and she _would_ discover the truth. "No, sweetheart. He's about as far from okay as I've seen him."

She choked back tears. "Find him, Mike. Please."

"I'm doing my best. I'll call you when I'm done kicking his ass for this."

"Save me some, okay?"

He smiled. "Promise."

Ending the call, he shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at Decker. "Let's keep looking. Just remind me that she wants a piece of him when we do find him."

"That sounds ominous."

"Trust me, buddy. You never, ever want to be in a place where she wants your ass like that."

"I'll remember that."

They got into the car and Decker pulled away from the curb.

* * *

><p>Eames had dozed off on the couch, but her sleep was light. When the key scraped against the lock, she woke. By the time she sat up, the door swung open and Goren came into the apartment.<p>

He stopped when he saw her sitting there, looking at the time. "Uh...it's late," he muttered.

"It's very late," she agreed.

He moistened his lips but didn't approach her, hoping to gauge her mood before he ventured any closer. "Why...why are you up?"

"Think about that for a minute, Goren. Why do you think I would be up at three o'clock in the morning?"

He looked at the floor, then walked across the room to the kitchen. She heard the rattle of pills, then water running in the sink. "Is that a good idea?" she called.

"What?"

"Taking pain medicine on top of half a gallon of whiskey?"

"Half a...what?" He moved to the doorway, still holding the glass of water. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you trying to tell me you haven't been out drinking all night?"

"Not all night. Want to give me a sobriety test?"

She heard a hint of his anger in the question, and she was impressed by his control. "Don't be a jackass. So where were you?"

"I don't have to answer to you."

There it was. She felt her own anger rise, but she fought it down. He had no idea why she was angry and he didn't think to ask, but she couldn't completely blame him for that. He chose to withdraw and shut down when faced with discord, a response he had learned long ago as a survival mechanism when dealing with his mother's illness and his father's apathy. Lessons learned during childhood were difficult to unlearn, especially when they were inextricably linked with survival. So—she was faced with two choices, and she took the time to weigh them. She could simply respond to his anger with anger, which, she knew from experience, was not the best way to deal with him, or she could use this situation to teach him the importance of communication, a first step toward helping him learn a different way—a _better_ way—to deal with discord.

Before she dove into the confrontation, though, she pulled out her phone. Without taking her eyes from her partner, she called Logan. "He's home, Mike," she said when he answered.

Logan's voice was thick with relief. "Thank God." He hesitated a beat and added, "Save a small piece of him for me, okay?"

"Will do."

She pressed the 'end call' button and set the phone on the coffee table. Taking a deep breath, she settled back on the couch, still looking at him. Her voice was calm, her tone reasonable. "No, you don't answer to me. That's not going to change unless you change it."

His brow furrowed. "Uh...what?"

She studied him, taking note of the confusion on his face. "Come over here and sit down," she said, trying not to make it sound like an order.

After a few moments of hesitation, he finally did as she asked, sitting on the opposite side of the couch from her. He was clearly uncomfortable. She sighed, but didn't make him move closer. "Where did that anger come from?" she asked.

He stared at the floor and looked about ready to bolt. She knew she would have to be careful. God, he was a lot of work, but it really wasn't his fault. She felt entirely comfortable blaming his mother for his insecurities and paranoia because she knew that Frances was ultimately the source of much of what was wrong with her youngest son. Was he worth the effort? Recalling the love that he usually felt comfortable expressing, in the bedroom and out of it, her answer was a resounding yes. "Talk to me," she encouraged.

His eyes twitched and he lightly rubbed his chest. "Y-You...You don't trust me," he finally admitted.

She frowned. "What? What are you talking about?"

"It's clear, Eames. You do not trust me. If you did, then you would have told me what you were planning."

"Trust has nothing to do with that, Bobby."

"Was it spontaneous?" he asked, a morsel of hope in his tone. Had she not planned it, then she would be speaking the truth to him. Otherwise, she was lying, and he wasn't sure he could handle that.

She heard the hope in his tone, and for half a second she considered lying to him, just to spare his feelings. But she knew what a mistake that would be, and it would set a terrible precedent. "It wasn't entirely spontaneous, but if I'd suggested it, can you tell me you would not have vetoed it?"

"No...but you never gave me the chance."

She was quiet, letting his words tumble through her head. "I'm sorry," she said, surprising him.

Eames rarely apologized. He looked at her, seeking sincerity. He approached the apology with caution. "What for?" he asked. After all, she might be apologizing for eating dinner without him or something else unimportant and unrelated to their conversation.

"I'm sorry for not discussing it with you." She hesitated, uncertain, but the words in her head began to tumble from her mouth, and once they began to flow, they would not be stayed. "I needed to be in there with you. I would not have pulled that stunt with anyone else in the room, Bobby, because I _do_ trust you. I didn't hesitate to do it because you were there, and I knew it would turn out okay because you always have my back. I was right about that. I didn't mean to upset you. I just did what had to be done to get him, just like you always do."

She had him there. He always did whatever he had to do, took whatever risks he had to take, revealed whatever secrets he had to reveal, to get a confession. She watched his shoulders slump in defeat as her words struck home_...just like you always do._ He never hesitated to step into a role that would close the trap and get their man. She had done no less. There was no lack of trust involved in her actions. It was an abundance of it that let her do what she had to do. Head lowered, shoulders drooped, he felt like an ass.

She moved closer to him on the couch. "I was angry, once it was all said and done. I had to get out of there so I wouldn't take it out on you because I wasn't mad at you."

He arched an eyebrow and gave her a look that told her he didn't believe her. She looked down at her lap for a moment before looking back at him. "Okay. I was a little mad at you. But mostly, I was mad at Romeo."

"I figured you were mad at me or you wouldn't have taken off like that."

"That wasn't because of you, Bobby. I had to get away from Romeo. He's...repulsive. I took two showers after I got home."

His agitation increased at the thought of Romeo even looking at his partner. Eames moved even closer, resting her hand on his arm. "Why did you disrupt the interrogation? That's not like you. You're in it to the bitter end. What happened?"

He looked at her hand, seeking the words to explain what had happened to him. After a long hesitation, he finally answered, "In my mind, I see Maggie Coulter as a traumatized teenager, gathering the courage to ID her rapist. I can't picture her as an adult, and I don't want to hear what he did to her. I...I listened for as long as I could, Eames. Then...I lost it. I'm sorry. I...I just couldn't listen to him any more. In my mind, he didn't have consensual sex with a grown woman. He raped a little girl again, and I couldn't get past that. I tried, and I failed. I'm sorry."

She moved her hand slowly along his arm to his shoulder. She gently stroked his hair as she again moved closer to him. "Don't apologize for having a heart, Bobby. I understand now why you were so upset, and I don't blame you. Just tell me what I need to do to help you get past it, and I will do it."

"There's nothing you can do. I have to work my way through it." His eyes strayed over her body. "I...I was very disturbed...that he was, uh, looking at you the way he was. He had lust in his eyes. Lust and desire and..." His body trembled. "Like Talbott, he wanted you, and I hated him even more for that. I wanted to strangle him, and it took everything I had not to do it. My emotions got the better of me all the way around in that interrogation. It...It made me wonder..."

He stopped, looking away so she wouldn't see the emotion that filled his face. He couldn't continue, and he couldn't control the shaking those emotions caused in his body. Her fingers combed through his hair and across his neck. "Tell me," she encouraged, her mouth much closer to his ear than he expected. "Made you wonder what?"

His left hand curled into a tight fist and he squeezed his eyes shut. She was surprised to see a single tear escape the corner of his eye and roll unchecked down his cheek. "Bobby?" she whispered. "What is it? Tell me. Please."

He took more time to compose himself, to pull his emotions back under his control. "It made me wonder..." he said softly. "Is this partnership going to work any more? I don't know if I can handle being your partner and your lover. I may have fucked it all up, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her fingers stopped moving. She was stunned. What was he saying? "Do you mean...we can't be partners any more?"

"I...I don't know!" he exploded, lurching to his feet suddenly.

Pain, caused by the sudden movement, erupted in his side and across his chest, unexpected and severe, driving him to his knees with a gasp. He couldn't hide it. The pain did not subside. He heard her call his name, but he could not respond. Darkness crept in at the sides of his vision and he could not drive it away. It slid over him quickly and it took her away.


	27. Complicated

Mike Logan hurried into the Emergency Room with Decker trotting to keep up with him. Spotting Eames, pacing on the other side of the waiting room, he rushed toward her. "Alex?"

She spun toward the familiar voice. "Mike..."

He caught her in his arms. "What happened, honey?"

"He...He collapsed while we were talking, after he told me he wasn't sure that we can still be partners. No one has told me anything..."

"Whoa, whoa, back it up. After he told you _what_?"

"He said he doesn't know if we can still be partners."

"And what was his reasoning behind that asinine assumption?"

"I don't know. He said something about not being sure he can handle being partners and lovers. We didn't get any further than that."

"How drunk was he?"

"That's just it. He was very agitated, but he seemed perfectly sober."

Logan gently patted her shoulder. "That's a neat trick of his. He can seem sober and be totally wasted. Did he say anything else?"

"Not a lot. He's got it in his head that I don't trust him, and that's simply not true. I do trust him. He was still very upset about the interrogation, especially about Maggie Coulter. She was his undoing. I don't know what happened, Mike. He..." She trailed off, near tears.

He pulled her back into his arms, looking at Decker, whose expression showed worry and sympathy. Logan pressed a kiss to her head. "Stay here with Alan. I'll see if I can find out anything."

She nodded, stepping away from him and sitting in a nearby chair. Decker sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Overwhelmed, she buried her face in his chest and let him hold her while they waited for Logan to return.

After awhile, Eames pulled back from Decker and he released her. "Can I ask you a question?" she said quietly.

"Go ahead."

"How has he been?"

"What do you mean?"

"You see him every day. Has he been...okay?"

He was quiet for a minute as he considered the best way to answer her question. "As far as I know, he has. He's a real quiet guy. Keeps to himself mostly. He's smart as hell, and he knows how to keep his people in line. We've had some trouble with the program that's caused us to push the completion date out a few times, and that upset him. When we found out that one of our team was...kind of tweaking the program, he was pissed. But he handled it right. I was impressed."

"Why would anyone do that?"

"She just wanted to keep him around. She's a bed hopper, and she wanted to hop into his bed. I think she thought if she kept him around longer, he'd cave. Whether or not he's involved with someone doesn't matter to her. She's not looking for a relationship; she gets that from her husband. She's just looking for sex. Her husband is the same way, and it works for them."

"Has Bobby shown her any interest?"

Decker shook his head. "That makes him more of a challenge to her." He watched her look around the mostly empty room. "Are you worried, Alex? Do you think he's down here tomcatting around?"

She didn't know what to think. They'd spent a third of their young relationship apart. She knew how much he liked sex and, before his mother got terminally ill almost two years before, he got it regularly. After Frank died and Declan Gage had fully descended into his delusions, Goren had turned to her and they'd crossed that invisible line they'd both drawn in the sand years before. The first four months had been tentative ones as they adjusted to the changes between them and struggled to keep the new aspects of their relationship out of the squad room. Then he'd been sent to Washington, and the last two months had been difficult, to say the least. "Bobby and I are apart more than we're together. We've never been in this situation before and I have never seen him with her."

"Do you sleep around back home?"

"No, but...he's...different than I am."

Decker rubbed his shoulder, which ached from time to time due to an old injury. "Is it something you really worry about? Do you think he'd do that?"

She slowly shook her head. "No, I don't think he would. How persistent is she?"

"Very. She's aggressive and she'll bring it right up to the line. She always stops just shy of getting talked to."

"Does he react at all?"

Decker shook his head. "Not that I have ever seen. If you want my opinion, I'd say put your worries away. He's loyal and with her he's all business. You've got yourself a keeper, Alex."

She gave his words some thought. "What about you? Does she chase after you, too?" she asked.

He laughed softly. "She used to, but not any more. I, uhm, I'm not a skirt-chaser. I'm more of a...tie chaser."

She turned her head to look at him, surprised. Her mouth curved into a small smile. "Bobby has some pretty nice ties," she suggested, her tone lighter than it had been.

"He sure does. I've been to the gym with him. But he's a skirt-chaser...and you have a beautiful...uh, skirt."

Finally, she laughed, spontaneous and genuine. "Thank you, Alan," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For keeping an eye on my partner."

"My pleasure," he answered with a twinkle in his eye. "You're a lucky woman, you know. He loves you very much."

She looked down at her hands, struggling to remain composed. "I know."

He reached out and placed his hand over hers. She waited for a minute, then she leaned into him and he slipped his arm back around her shoulders, comforting her again as they waited.

Finally, Logan returned. He took the chair at her other side. "It took some doing, but a badge and a charming smile can go a long way toward getting the information you want, and a date." Decker laughed and Eames smiled as she shook her head. He had an incorrigible charm. Then Logan's smile faded and he said, "Did either of you know that Romeo hurt him this afternoon?"

They both shook their heads. Eames said, "No. He was a little slow to get up after Romeo attacked him, but he seemed to be okay once he was up. Did he say anything to you?"

"No. He was very quiet, and I missed it. He was angry and upset, and I missed that, too. I expected him to be happy because he was off the hook for those murders, so I didn't bother looking to see that he wasn't. I didn't read his mood right, and I didn't know that he'd been hurt so bad."

She shook her head slowly. "Why didn't he say anything?"

That Logan understood. "Never let 'em see you sweat. Never show weakness. He learned that a very long time ago, and it's not something he's going to unlearn any time soon."

Alex bit her lower lip, then asked, "So what happened to him?"

"He already had a cracked rib from his first fight with Romeo. It was healing, but it was still vulnerable to injury. When Romeo body slammed him into the wall today, he finished the job and snapped that rib. I'm sure it hurt like hell, but his anger eclipsed the pain long enough to get him to the bar with Alan and me."

"But why did he collapse?"

"He must have moved wrong. The broken end of that rib hit his lung."

She caught her breath. "Oh, no...Is he...I mean, will he be...Mike?"

"They're moving him to intensive care. Once he's stable, they'll go in and fix that rib with a couple of screws or a steel plate. Right now, he has a chest tube in to drain the blood and air from his chest and to keep his lungs from collapsing, but they haven't put him on a ventilator yet. He's not entirely out of the woods, but he's starting to come around. They've given him some mild sedation, but they're gonna let him wake up."

Decker held her hand and Logan put his arm around her, squeezed and said, "Come on. ICU is on the second floor."

Outside the ICU, they waited for forty minutes while the nursing staff got Goren settled. Then they were able to see him.

He was still unconscious, pale and still. A tube was taped in place on his side; blood and serous fluid accumulated in a container hanging from the side of the bed. It was marked in milliliter increments so they could measure the amount of fluid they were getting from him. An IV went into the back of his right hand and a nasal cannula delivered oxygen to his damaged lungs. The monitor above his bed recorded his heart rate, respirations and blood oxygen level, which currently read 112, 11, and 91, respectively. She didn't know if they were where they should be, but since no one was panicking, she had to trust that he was okay.

Eames stepped forward; the two men hung back, watching. She slipped her hand into Goren's. "Oh, Bobby...what did you do?"

Leaning down, she kissed his temple. A tear fell from her face onto his cheek and rolled toward his ear. His fingers tightened around hers, and she whispered his name again. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly slid open. She looked into tired dark eyes. He coughed, sending pain blazing through his chest and a surge of blood out through his chest tube. He groaned deeply, closing his eyes.

When he eased them open again, a nurse was injecting something into his IV line. He shifted his gaze back to Eames. "I...I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse.

She touched his lips. "If you're sorry for getting hurt, don't be. That wasn't your fault. If you're sorry for not telling anyone and letting it come to this, you can make that up to me later."

He gave her a weak smile. "Deal."

Leaning down, she pressed her forehead against his and said, "And if you're apologizing about that idiotic assertion that we can't be partners any more, I haven't decided what I'm going to do to you for that one."

As she drew back, she saw the change in his expression, and she realized he was still serious about it. Her stomach did a sick flip. "Bobby, we'll work it out, okay? Don't base the rest of our lives on one bad interrogation."

Decker approached the bed. "Bad interrogation? What are you talking about? That was a brilliant interrogation."

Goren studied his current partner with a frown and shook his head. "I...I disrupted it, Alan...I lost...control..."

Decker made a face. "Bull. It looked to me like that was all planned and choreographed perfectly, and if anyone asks, that's exactly what I'm going to say. Romeo knew his goose was cooked. That's why he lost it." He moved closer and rested his hand gently on Goren's leg. "Bobby, don't let this one slimeball ruin everything. When you get out of here, we're going to finish this profiling program and then you're going home, back to what I see as a near-perfect life."

Goren frowned. "What were you drinking tonight?" he muttered.

Decker smiled. "Come on, man. You go to work every day with this beautiful lady, and you're in perfect sync. You chase the bad guys and trap them with their own words. It's brilliant. I'm in awe. As if that wasn't enough, at the end of the day, you go home, and she's there, too. And she _loves_ you. Count your blessings, buddy. You've got it good."

Goren's brow smoothed over as Decker talked. His dark eyes shifted to Logan, who nodded his agreement. Finally, he looked at Eames. "Don't sweat it, Goren," she said, her eyes bright with a mixture of love and pride. "We got him."

"But..."

"No buts. We got him. It doesn't really matter how it happened. It just matters that we did it."

When she saw the doubt in his eyes, she leaned closer. "Bobby, Romeo is going to jail for his crimes and you're not. That is what matters." She pressed her lips gently against his, relaxing when he kissed her back. Pulling back, she whispered, "I am not going anywhere, and neither are you."

He saw the determination in her eyes, and he knew that she would fight for the partnership. She would not let him give up on them. Ever. He gave her a nod, his energy spent, and his eyes slowly closed. He wasn't going to fight with her, not about that, because he wanted it, too.

She pushed her fingers gently through his hair, watching his face relax as he drifted back to sleep. She kissed his forehead and sat in the chair beside the bed, holding his hand. She looked at Decker and Logan. "Thank you," she said.

Logan gave her a smile. "Just let us know if he gives you any more trouble. I'll call you tomorrow."

She nodded, and the two men left. Leaning back in the chair, she finally felt herself begin to relax. Life with Goren had never been easy, but she had never anticipated that it would be. She knew he was a lot of work, but it was an effort she was willing to put into him. Exhausted, she closed her eyes, and she slept.

* * *

><p>Eames hated hospitals. She hated intensive care units and surgical waiting rooms. She hated waiting, most of all. Flanked once more by Logan and Decker, she waited impatiently for word from the surgical suite where Goren was being worked on. The surgeon had promised that it wasn't a difficult surgery. Her partner hadn't been shot or stabbed. He was going to be okay.<p>

It had taken three days for him to stabilize enough for them to take him to surgery. He had slept for most of that time, which worried Eames. She'd never seen him so still for so long, and she was worried. The doctors assured her that he was channeling his energy into healing, and Logan reassured her. She felt better when Logan was there. He was able to draw her focus away from memories of the past and prevent her from projecting her fears into the near future. Logan kept her grounded and focused. When he was there, her fears subsided.

The room was quiet, too quiet. She couldn't keep her mind from comparing it to another room, nine years in the past. She'd waited then, with her parents flanking her. That long wait had ended in another ICU, when she'd lost the man she loved. She couldn't keep herself from making comparisons.

That waiting room had also been quiet, painted in colors meant to be calming, comforting. Her mother had held her hand, offering direct contact, comfort, love. Her father had offered a different kind of support, equally important. He was strong, solid, her rock. He was the only reason she'd kept herself together and maintained rigid control over her emotions when she was around other people. She did not want to be less in her father's eyes.

Now she leaned on Logan as she had her parents. He gave her comfort and strength. He also helped her to believe that everything would be okay. His faith in Goren was unwavering, and that helped her to have faith, too. Decker made coffee runs, and he brought her a cherry danish. She wondered just how much Goren had told him about her, not that it mattered. The fact that he'd told his FBI partner anything spoke volumes to her. As private as Goren was about his life, sharing anything about her with the outside world was big. Decker knew how much Goren loved her. He knew without ever having seen them together. It didn't matter how he knew. Goren had revealed it somehow. Maybe it had been with words or it could have been with a look. Either way, he'd let someone outside his inner circle of two know that he was in love.

"Mike," she whispered, gripping his hand tightly as the doctor finally came into the room.

"It's okay, honey," he whispered back, squeezing her hand as the man approached.

The surgeon sat in a nearby chair and leaned forward to confer with them. "I'm sorry that took longer than we expected," he said, not knowing that in leading off with those two words he'd nearly caused her heart to stop.

Logan felt it in the tremor of her muscles and the tightening of her hand around his, and he slid his arm around her shoulders. Intuitively sensitive, Decker also reached out, taking her other hand in his. She squeezed his hand, too.

"We repaired his rib and secured it with a thin stainless steel plate, but then we noticed that a sliver of bone was missing from the rib. We had to x-ray his chest to find it, and then we had to remove it. That was what took so long."

Eames swallowed hard. "Where..."

She choked on the rest of the sentence, and Logan asked it for her. "Where was it?"

"It had migrated across his lung and lodged in the other side, very close to his heart."

"Is he...?"

"He's okay. He's in recovery now. We're going to transfer him back to intensive care, at least for the night, so we can watch him closely. The chest tube will stay in place for another day or so. Once we remove that, as long as his pain is controlled by oral medication, he can go home."

"Thank you," Logan answered because Eames couldn't.

Her relief was palpable. Tension slid from her like air from a balloon, leaving her deflated. She rested her head on Logan's shoulder, tears of relief rolling over her cheeks. He put his arms around her and looked at Decker, who gently patted her back. Normally, both men would be distinctly uncomfortable when faced with a crying woman, but not then. She was expressing the same relief they felt, and they were okay with that.


	28. Recovering

Goren woke once in recovery, deeply in pain and mildly combative. He called for Eames, but when she wasn't there, he slid into a panic which manifested itself as trouble for the medical staff. Fortunately for all concerned, he didn't have the strength to fight the medicine they gave him. He slipped back into unconsciousness, where there wasn't any pain.

* * *

><p>He woke again late that night, when the pain was better controlled and not quite so raw. Some of his strength had returned and he was more aware, but his surroundings were dark and unfamiliar, and he didn't see Eames. Panic returned full force. His heart rate skyrocketed, setting off an alarm somewhere near the bed. He didn't notice the movement nearby before the door flew open, flooding the room with light from the hallway. Two nurses hurried to his bedside as his panic escalated.<p>

"Eames..." he called out, wondering where she was, why he couldn't find her.

He struggled against hands that grasped his arms and ignored the pleas from the nurses for him to calm down. It wasn't the nurses that penetrated his panic, or the light that blinded him when it came on above his bed, or the continued noise from the alarm on the monitor. Only one thing reached through the panic and grabbed his attention. _Her_ voice, saying his name. Her hand slid into his and she squeezed. "Bobby," she repeated. "I'm right here. Calm down."

His heart rate began to slow down as the panic gradually subsided. She was there, somewhere close by. One of the nurses injected medication into his IV line as Eames lightly rubbed his arm and continued to softly implore him to calm down. The room got dark as the pounding in his chest eased, giving way to pain that made it difficult to breathe. He struggled against the pain and the darkness, realizing after a minute that his eyes were closed. Forcing them open, he squinted against the dim light emitted by a single light bulb, glowing from the ceiling on the other side of the room. His head was spinning, but the pain was beginning to fade and it didn't hurt so much to breathe any more. Only one nurse remained, and once she saw that he was calm and his pain was under control, she gave him a kind smile and patted his arm. "If you need anything, just press the call button and I'll come back," she said softly.

He nodded and she left the room. The room was silent and he searched the shadows.

"Alex..." he softly murmured, his voice hoarse, hoping he hadn't imagined her voice.

"Right here," she responded, sliding her hand back into his as she stepped into his line of vision. She was backlit by the light behind her, but her face glowed in the orange light cast by the monitor above his bed.

He reached up to touch her cheek. A single tear from her eye rolled onto his finger. "I...Alex, I'm...sorry..."

She touched his lips with her fingers. "Shhh," she whispered. "Don't. None of this was your fault."

His mind was fuzzy, but he could still read her. "Your past...came back to haunt you," he said softly.

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come, so she simply nodded. He understood; she knew he did. He squeezed her hand. "Were you alone?"

She shook her head. "Logan and Decker waited with me," she finally said, but her voice was tight.

He stroked her cheek, touched her ear, then gently drew her closer. She leaned down and kissed him. Relief flooded through her, bringing with it a maelstrom of emotion. She choked back tears. He didn't miss any of it.

"I'm not Joe," he said softly. "I won't leave you."

"Bobby..."

He raised his hand and lightly caressed her lips with his fingertip. "Please. Let me have this one," he softly pleaded.

Searching his eyes, she could read his sincerity. She didn't doubt that he wanted to be with her. Slowly, she nodded, willing to concede defeat before the argument even got started. She touched his chin, moving her fingers along his jaw and up into his curls. "I don't suppose I have given you much reason to believe me lately, but I have a confession to make."

He looked interested, but he was sleepy. He shifted his position and rested his hand on her side. "What confession?" he asked.

Her thumb caressed his cheek just below his eye. "I love you," she answered, hoping he could see the truth of it in her eyes, the way she could see it in his.

His eyes traveled over her face and his mouth curled into a small smile. His eyes drifted half-closed, and he forced them open. He wanted to stay awake, but his body demanded sleep. He fought for as long as he could, but ultimately, the drugs in his system and the stress to which his body had been subjected won out over his will.

"I love you, too," he replied and he drifted off to sleep.

"I know," she said, stroking his hair. "I know."

* * *

><p>Logan opened the apartment door, stepping in and to the side. Eames followed Goren inside, watching him ease himself onto the couch. He moved slowly and was still in a lot of pain, but he was out of the hospital and for that he was glad.<p>

"Want a drink?" Logan asked.

"I do, but I don't think my keeper will let me have one yet."

With a grin, Logan replied, "Apple juice it is."

Eames sat beside him on the couch. "Your keeper?"

"You've been monitoring everything I do since I've been in the hospital."

"Because you do such a bang-up job of it yourself. You need a keeper."

His eyes strayed over her and he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "No," he said softly, defusing the argument before it began in earnest. "I just need you."

He leaned forward and softly kissed her, threading his fingers into her hair. She slid closer and slipped her arms around him. Logan came into the room with a glass of apple juice, stopped and looked at his watch. "Five minutes. What took you so long?"

Eames pulled back, and Goren let her go. She glared at Logan as he handed Goren the glass. Logan wagged a finger at her. "Take it easy on him. We don't want him back in the hospital."

"I'm not fragile," Goren complained. "They fixed me, remember?"

"And if you do that again, I'll fix you," Logan retorted.

Goren drank the juice and set the glass on the end table beside the remote. Eames slid her hand down his arm and wrapped her fingers around his hand. "You look tired," she said.

"I'm not..." he trailed off when he caught her eye. The doctor released him to normal activity as tolerated, with the caution that he take it easy for a little while. "Uh, I...well, maybe I should...lay down for a little while."

Standing, she tugged his hand gently. He eased himself up, looking at her with heat in his eyes. Logan didn't miss the exchange. "Take it easy, remember? The doctor said take it easy."

"He also said I could resume activities as tolerated," Goren replied.

"Maybe he meant for you to start off with walks around the block, not romps in the hay."

Eames gave him a sly smile. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

Goren made a noise of protest and she gave him a gentle push toward the bedroom. "Don't break him!" Logan shouted after them. "He's been broken enough lately!"

The bedroom door slammed shut and he laughed softly. Flopping down on the couch, he picked up the remote.

* * *

><p>Goren turned toward her as she shoved the door closed, sliding his arms around her. She pushed him gently backwards toward the bed. He sat a little harder than he intended, grunting softly in pain. Concern filled her face, but he placed his hands on her waist and gently kissed away her concern. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders. Her fingers lightly stroked the bandage over his injured side. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, all teasing gone from her tone and her expression.<p>

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, resting his head on her chest. He was silent for a little while, enjoying the contact and the gentle beat of her heart beneath his ear. "I am now," he whispered.

"Promise, you'll tell me to stop if it hurts."

"Alex..."

"I mean it, or you'll be waiting until I come back next week, at the very least."

He frowned at the reminder that she was leaving in the morning to return to New York for the work week. Logan would stay, but it wasn't quite the same. "Okay," he mumbled unhappily. "I promise."

"I'm going to take it slow and easy. I know that's not the way you prefer it, but it's that or nothing."

He kissed her softly. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give," he said against her mouth.

That was one thing about him that she appreciated. Regardless of what took him down, he bounced back quickly in the bedroom. She teased him about it, but she had no complaints. She closed her eyes, a smile gracing her lips as he undressed her. Helping him shed the last of his clothes, she slid into the bed with him and, as promised, took it slow and easy, which was torture for him, but he relished every moment of it.

"Slow and easy has its merits," he whispered softly as his body settled back into its normal rhythm.

He held her close and she stroked his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. She tipped her face up and kissed his chin. "Are you okay?"

"No harm done," he answered with a smile. "Just...worn out."

"Your stamina will return in time."

He rested his cheek against her head and closed his eyes. She felt him relax as he drifted to sleep, waiting until he was sleeping deeply before she slid from the bed and dressed.

* * *

><p>Logan looked toward her when she came back to the living room. She dropped onto the couch beside him and took the remote from his hand. "Hey," he protested.<p>

"I'm leaving in the morning. Humor me."

"He okay?"

"Yes. I didn't break him. He's asleep."

"Good, then I didn't lie to Ross...well, not completely. He called about fifteen minutes ago. I told him he was sleeping and you went to the store. He said he'll meet you at the airport when you come in."

She nodded. "Make sure he takes it easy, will you?"

"I'm not the one jumping into bed with him the first hour he's out of the hospital."

She punched his shoulder. "He's fine. He wanted to fool around _before_ he got out of the hospital. I knew I wasn't going to be able to put him off for long."

"I saw how hard you tried."

"Sometimes it's better to just give in and avoid a fight."

"Uh-huh. I can tell that was what you were thinking."

"Shut up, Logan."

He laughed and snatched the remote back from her, holding it just out of reach when she lunged for it. She poked him in the ribs. "Fine," she said without venom. "Since you told Ross I was at the store, I'll attempt to salvage whatever passes for your honor and run to the store. What do you want for dinner?"

"Anything's got to be better than that cafeteria food. Surprise me."

She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her bag and left the apartment.

* * *

><p>Logan jumped up when she wrestled the door open and took the bags from her. He helped her put the groceries away and she went down the hall to check on Goren. She sat lightly on the edge of the bed and gently played with his hair. He shifted and slowly opened his eyes, giving her a sleepy smile that she found endearing. He slid his arm around her waist and studied her face. "What?" she asked, not entirely comfortable with his scrutiny.<p>

His expression changed instantly when he sensed her discomfort and he became guarded. He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Don't do that," she gently chided. "Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell. I...I try...but sometimes I slip up. I didn't mean it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I try...not to read you. You don't like it. You threatened me with bodily harm, in fact..."

She rested her hand on his chest, silencing his hurried apology. "What did you see?" she asked softly.

His brow furrowed. "I don't...nothing."

"It's okay. You can tell me."

He chewed his lip for a moment. Removing his arm from around her waist, he reached up and ran his finger along her jaw. He saw the flash of heat in her eyes, and he relaxed a little, letting his hand slide gently down the front of her to come to rest in her lap. "I saw...worry," he answered. "You're still worried about me."

"Yes, I am. That's not going to change any time soon."

"Fair enough."

She touched the bandage on his side. "Hurt?"

He paused, then decided that lying to her would be a bad idea. She would know. "Yes."

"Need some medicine?"

"I need some food first."

"I'll make something. I just got back from the store. What do you want? Pasta?"

He grinned. "I'm not sure I have the energy for pasta."

"How about pancakes?"

He nodded. "Okay. Do you want some help?"

"I can draft Logan if I need help. You just rest."

"Can I rest in the living room?"

"If you and your sidekick can behave."

"No promises."

With a smile, she leaned down and kissed him. He watched her leave the room before he got up, dressed and went out into the living room.


	29. An Intimate Conversation

The week passed slowly for Goren. Pain made him irritable and his boredom made it even worse. He missed Eames more as time passed and that contributed to his bad mood, but Logan bore it like a champ. Goren tried not to take it out on his friend, knowing how much worse it would be for him if Logan went back to New York.

Tuesday afternoon, Decker stopped by, a folder tucked under his arm. After greeting Logan and Goren, he sat down on the couch and set the folder on the coffee table beside a deck of cards and a chessboard with all the pieces laying on their sides, which was what Logan did when Goren beat him in less than a dozen moves.

Goren eyed the folder with interest. "What's that?" he asked.

With some reluctance, Decker picked up the folder and handed it to him. Goren opened it and studied the contents. Watching his reaction, Decker knew when he came across the reason for his visit. Goren's eyes shifted to Decker. "Martino?"

"Yes and no."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Logan leaned forward. "He's been just a little grouchy the past couple of days," he warned Decker.

Goren gave him a look, and Logan saw the apology behind the irritation. Goren shifted his attention back to Decker. "Yes and no?" he asked.

"She was messing around with the program and she unintentionally left a back door open. We got hacked. I shut it down, but it'll take us weeks to redo everything that was compromised."

Goren threw the folder down onto the table and lurched to his feet with a violent swear. He paced the room in an impotent rage. Finally, he waved his hand through the air and declared, "I want her off the project."

"Bobby..." Decker began.

"Don't argue with me. For every step forward we take, she knocks us back three. I'm done with her. She..." He paused and took a deep breath, calming himself. "Did she do it intentionally?"

"Not this time, no. This time it was simple carelessness."

"There are eight of us, Alan, and she's the only one who's set us back. If I'd turned her loose the first time, we'd be twice as far along as we are now. I'll call Vic and give him the details. This project is my baby, and I have full authority over my team. I want her off it. Revoke her clearance and lock her out of the program when you get back to the office."

Decker nodded. "Consider it done."

"You'll back me on this?"

"Of course I will, partner. At this point, she's a greater liability than she is an asset. As much as I like having you here, I know how anxious you are to go back home."

Goren stopped his pacing and looked at his partner. Some of his agitation faded and a small smile touched his mouth. "Thank you."

Decker returned his smile. "Who's going to tell her?"

"That's my job. I'll be in tomorrow morning."

Rising to his feet, Decker nodded. "Although I don't envy you, I'd pay money to see her reaction."

"And I'd sell tickets, if I could get away with it," Logan put in. "Stay for dinner, Alan?"

"Thanks, but I have a date tonight. I'd better get going or I'll be late. Good night, guys."

Goren continued to pace after Decker left before he picked up his phone from the coffee table. Still pacing, he called Vic Turner.

When he finished his call, he sat heavily on the couch beside Logan. "Well?" Logan said.

"Well...he's deferring to my judgment. It's my project and my call. He doesn't disagree."

Logan watched him as he closed his eyes and rubbed his side. "You okay?" he asked.

Goren nodded. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Logan countered.

Goren pinched the bridge of his nose. "I, uh, I'm..." He sighed. "I'm lonely, Mike. I miss her."

"I'd be worried if you didn't."

"Don't get me wrong. I appreciate that you're here and I'm glad you've stayed with me. But..."

"But I'm not her."

"You are definitely not her," Goren said with a smile.

Logan laughed and said, "I'm glad you can still tell the difference."

"Oh, I can tell the difference."

"C'mon, grab your jacket. Let's go get a burger and a beer or three. We'll see if we can somehow manage to engage you."

"Sounds like a plan," Goren replied as he got up.

They left the apartment.

* * *

><p>Eames turned over in her bed toward the phone. She reached out and fumbled for the offending device, bringing the receiver to her ear. "Eames," she mumbled.<p>

"Hi," he said, his voice soft.

She smiled as she yawned. "Hi," she answered, her voice just as soft.

"Did I...uh, did I wake you?"

She glanced at the time. "Do you not know how to look at a clock when you're drunk? It's 2:30, Bobby."

"How do you know that I've been drinking? All I said was hi."

"Unless we have a call out, the only time you call me in the middle of the night is when you've been drinking. Otherwise, you at least wait until an hour past sun-up."

"So I did wake you?"

"Just a little."

His brow furrowed. "How did I...uhm, just a little?"

Her smile widened as she imagined the frown of confusion on his face. "Well, since I was dreaming about you, I'd say you woke me just a little."

"You were...really? You were dreaming about me?"

"I was."

He was intrigued. "Was it...a good dream?"

"Very good."

"Uhm...what was it about?"

"Tell you what...I'll show you what it was about when I see you this weekend."

He softly groaned. "I don't want to wait," he murmured.

"Neither do I," she whispered. "I miss you."

"Alex..." He closed his eyes and drew in a few deep breaths. "Alex, I..."

When he stopped, she gently urged him on. "What, Bobby?"

He rubbed his side and groaned again. "About Friday..."

"Are you calling to cancel on me?"

"Oh, God, no. I don't think I'll make it another week and a half. I just...I'm not up to the drive and..."

"Shh," she shushed. He knew that if she'd been there, she would have touched his mouth with a part of her body. Which part she used didn't really matter to him. His mind filled in the blanks. "I like the drive. Maybe I can get off early, so I can be there for dinner. Does that sound good?"

"Just seeing you sounds good," he replied.

She stifled a yawn, but he heard it. He felt bad for waking her. Well, not really, but he felt the need to apologize and let her go back to sleep since she had to work in the morning. "Go back to sleep, baby," he whispered. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Are you really?" she challenged.

"Really what?"

"Sorry you woke me?"

"Well, uh, n-no, not really...but...you have to get up in the morning..."

"It won't kill me to lose a little sleep. Besides, I like talking to you like this."

"Like what?"

"Like this, in the middle of the night, when everything is quiet and calm and peaceful. It's very...intimate."

He rolled onto his back, his right arm resting across his chest and he softly sighed. "Alex..." he stopped again.

She waited, but he didn't continue. She listened to him breathe and not talk, and she found herself unwilling to end the call just yet. Quietly, she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Doing? Uh, I...I'm just laying here."

"Where?"

"In bed. Where else would I be laying?"

"I don't know...on the couch?"

"With Logan? I don't think so. I'm not that desperate yet."

She laughed, and that made him smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

He lightly scratched his wound and let out a slow breath. "So...how is your partner working out?"

"My partner is in Washington. My interim partner is doing okay. I haven't had an urge to strangle him lately."

"That's good, I think."

A comfortable pause stretched between them until she asked, "What did you do tonight?"

"Not much. Logan and I went out for burgers and a few drinks."

"A few?"

"A few, and maybe a couple more."

"What else?"

How could she know that there was something else, something that bothered him enough to call her in the dead of night for a reason other than he just wanted to hear her voice? "I, uhm, I...there was...a woman tonight..."

She paused, not quite sure what to make of his confession. "A woman. Where?"

"At the bar."

"And? Did you do something with her?"

"Like what?"

Sometimes, getting information from him was like pulling hen's teeth. "There has to be some significance or you wouldn't bring it up. I imagine she wasn't the only woman in the bar. Did you ask her out or something?"

"What? No! Of course not...I mean, why would...no...I'm with you."

She could hear the panic in his voice, fueled by the drinks he'd had and driven harder by recent events, and she eased up on him. "It's okay, Bobby. I was teasing."

He was quiet for a moment, but she could hear his breathing. He hadn't calmed himself. "Sh-She, uh, she approached me."

She was quiet for a moment. "You had a conversation with her. She flirted with you and, being a gentleman, you flirted back."

"I, uhm, uh, y-yes."

"What else did you do?"

"Before or after I panicked?"

Her heart melted. "Oh, Bobby," she whispered, sudden tears moistening her eyes.

"It turned out okay," he assured her. "I, uh, I flirted with her for a little bit, then Mike took over and I went back to my drink. She survived the encounter."

"Baby, it wasn't your fault that Cassie Morton died."

"I know. I was joking."

It hadn't sounded like a joke to her ear, and she knew he still blamed himself on some level for not walking Cassie home that night. He had erred on the side of caution because he knew that, if he had walked her home, there was a good chance that, given the amount of beer he'd consumed, he might likely have ended up in bed with her, and that was something for which he would not expect Eames to forgive him. So he'd played it safe, and Cassie Morton paid for that with her life.

"Bobby, it's okay for you to talk to women. It's even okay for you to flirt with them. I trust you."

He shifted his position, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort in his side. He knew that she accepted him for who he was, and he hoped he would never give her reason to doubt him. He moistened his lips and softly replied, "The last time I flirted with a woman, it ended badly, for her and for me. She was better off with Logan. Besides, I think she got bored with me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"She either got tired of talking or she got tired of the topic of conversation."

"My bet would be she wanted to do more than talk. I have that same problem when I'm with you. What was the topic you think she was bored with?"

He paused, then softly whispered, "You."

After a moment, she laughed. "A woman shows an active interest in you and takes the time to flirt with you, and you talk about me?"

"Pathetic, huh?"

"No," she replied. "Not pathetic. Not at all."

If anything, his drunken obsession for her reassured her. Not very long ago, she feared herself a passing fancy to him. She knew better now, and everything he did reinforced that assessment to her. She was quiet for a few minutes, listening to him breathe in the silence. Hoping to set him more at ease and lighten his mood before she said good night, she changed the topic, adopting a light, teasing tone. "So where is that legendary curiosity of yours, Goren?"

"My...what?"

"Your curiosity. We've been talking for...at least fifteen minutes, and you have yet to ask me what I'm wearing."

"What you're...wearing?"

"Yeah. Aren't you interested?"

"Uh, yes, very...although...if you were here...you'd be wearing, uhm..."

"What? A winter coat and mukluks?"

He tucked his arm beneath his head and softly laughed. "Not if I had anything to do with it."

She laughed with him. "So maybe you should set the thermostat higher than fifty. I never had a desire to make love in the snow."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it."

"With you, I'd be willing to give it a shot. You're very...warm."

"Warm? I don't think I've been called that before."

"I'm assuming you already know that you're hot. Let's face it, you melt me on a regular basis."

He struggled with the imagery she created in his mind and the physical reaction it caused. "I wish I didn't have to go in to work tomorrow."

"You're going back to work already? Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"I have a desk job, Alex. It's not exactly taxing. Besides, the sooner I get back to it, the sooner I can get the hell out of here and go back home, back to being a cop...back to you. But tomorrow...I'm going in to take Martino off the team or I'll never make it home."

"You're firing your problem child? Didn't you say taking her off the project would only set you further behind?"

Talk of work and Martino calmed his body down quickly. "That was the case up to a month ago. But now, the best thing for me to do is to get her reassigned."

"What happened?"

"She, uhm, she left the program vulnerable and we got hacked."

"Hacked? You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

"So what does that mean for you?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "Aside from a pounding headache, I don't know for sure. Alan and I haven't assessed the damage yet. At the very least, it means redoing a lot of work we'd already completed, and I'll be here for a while longer...maybe through the end of the year."

"Bobby..." she trailed off, upset by the news. But it wasn't his fault, and it wasn't fair to take it out on him.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he said softly, and she heard the disappointment in his tone.

Whether he was disappointed in the situation or in her reaction to it, she wasn't sure, but she responded softly, with reassurance. "I know. It's not your fault. I just...I miss you and I want you home."

"No more than I want to be there," he assured her. "I...I can keep working through the weekends, get done a little faster."

"But what will that really amount to, Bobby? How much faster will you get done if you work through the weekends? A week? Two?"

"I don't know."

She was quiet for what seemed to be a long time, looking through the dim light that shone through her window at the picture that was sitting on her bedside table. For so many years, the man in that picture had been Joe. But when she got home after the whole fiasco with Romeo, she had rearranged the pictures in her home. Joe's picture was still there, across the room on the dresser. Her favorite picture of the two of them still sat on the mantle in her living room. But the other pictures of her late husband that had once adorned her home had been lovingly put away in her closet, easily accessible when she wanted to see them. The picture that sat beside her bed, beside the most recent one of her nephew, was of Goren, a rare candid in which he was smiling and obviously happy. Logan had given her the picture as a birthday present, and she knew it was a recent one, but he wouldn't give her any details about it.

She softly sighed as she looked at the picture, reaching out to tenderly run her fingertips along the frame. "Don't do that, Bobby," she softly urged, moving her fingers along the glass to touch his lips. "I want your weekends."

"But...it's a long drive, and I can't...not right now, not for a few more weeks, at least..."

"But I can and I will. Really, it's fine. I'll take the train if that will make you feel better. I want to see you."

He stared up at the ceiling and was quiet. Then he whispered, "I miss you so much."

She smiled and felt a warmth in her heart. "I miss you, too."

After another protracted silence, she asked, "Are you feeling okay? How is your side?"

"It's better. It itches, but it doesn't hurt so much. I'm feeling better, but I still haven't recovered my energy, and that annoys me."

"Maybe now I'll stand a chance of keeping up with you."

His soft laugh was warm and genuinely amused. She wished she could touch him. "Are you still taking your pain medicine?"

"Sometimes, when it really hurts. Not tonight, though."

"Alcohol can be a good pain killer."

"When you drink enough of it, yeah."

She hesitated, then asked, "And did you drink enough?"

"No. Not tonight. Not yet."

"Bobby..."

"Tell me," he interrupted, not wanting to delve into the topic of his alcohol consumption. "Your clothes...you asked if I wanted to know what you're wearing, and I do."

He had a unique ability to surprise her, and she was beginning to enjoy it, but she didn't want him to know that just yet. "Who said I'm wearing clothes?"

His brain tripped over itself, and he found himself unable to speak. His mouth moved, but no sound came forth for a couple of minutes. His mind had no trouble at all conjuring the image she suggested and his body's reaction was right behind it. He finally groaned. It was the only thing he could do at the moment.

She smiled at the soft noise. "I was joking," she assured him. "I'm wearing pajamas. Lavender pajamas."

"Which ones?" he asked, when his mind had recovered from its meltdown.

"Do you think you know all my pajamas?"

"I know which ones I like," he answered.

She smiled. "The soft cotton ones. A sleeveless top..."

"And those little shorts. I like those."

"So do I. They're comfortable."

"Because you keep your thermostat set to 80."

"Unless you're here and you turn it down to 60."

"You don't need the heat that high when you have me to keep you warm."

"That's true. I'll have to turn it up some more. It's getting colder, and you're not here."

He closed his eyes, resenting the fact that she had to rely on her thermostat to keep her warm. "What are you wearing under your pajamas?"

"Now you think you know all my underwear?"

"I'd like to, but only in passing."

She laughed, and when he joined her with a soft chuckle, she decided to have a little more fun with him. "I like the feel of this fabric against my skin," she replied.

He hit another mental stumbling block and stammered for a minute. "S-so...that means you're wearing what under your pajamas?"

"Nothing."

She was driving him nuts. "N-Nothing? At all?"

"Not a thing."

"You're killing me," he whispered.

"What are you going to do about it?"

He cursed the restrictions to which his body currently subjected him. "If I was sober, I'd get in the car right now and get Logan to drive me up there. Then I could show you what I'd do."

"Hold that thought for a couple of days."

He let out a soft sigh of frustration. "I don't have much choice."

"I love you, Bobby."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Spontaneous and unsolicited, her quiet declaration hit him much harder than her teasing ever would. "I love you, too. Good night, Alex."

"Good night, baby."

With great reluctance, he pressed 'end call.' Friday was too far away, and so was sleep. He got up and went into the kitchen. Logan was stretched out on the couch, channel surfing, and he shifted to the right to make room for his friend. Goren dropped down beside him and twisted the cap off his beer.

"Problem?" Logan asked.

"Yes. No...I..." He trailed off with a shake of his head and took a drink of his beer. "I don't know."

"Well, you were going to bed and now you're back out here. What happened in between?"

"I talked to Alex."

"She called you?"

"I called her."

Logan made a noise at the back of his throat. "I'll bet that made you popular."

"She didn't complain."

"Oh? Phone sex with you is that good?"

"We...never got that far." He ran a hand over his hair. "We only got as far as what she was wearing."

"And that made you come undone?"

"Kind of."

"Buddy, you've got it bad."

"Shut up and watch the movie, Logan."

Logan made a noise then fell silent. When the movie went to commercial, Goren asked, "What did that mean?"

"The flower?" Logan asked, referring to the movie.

"No, that noise you made."

"It meant I'm right."

"Oh."

He didn't argue, because he agreed that Logan was right. He didn't say it aloud, but he didn't have to. They both knew it was true.


	30. Confrontations

Goren's bedroom was still fairly dark when his landline rang, echoing inside his head. He rolled over and grabbed the receiver, to shut it up more than for any other reason. "Goren," he growled into the offending device.

"Agent Goren, this is Quinton Gerrold of the MPD."

Goren frowned and rubbed his temple. What the hell—he thought he was done with the local cops. "Uh, what can I do for you, captain?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, agent, but I was wondering if there is any way you could stop by my office sometime today or tomorrow."

He squinted at the clock. It was just past 7. "Uh, well, I-I guess so. Would this afternoon work? Around, uh, 2?"

"That will be fine. Thank you."

The line went dead and he looked at the phone in his hand for a minute before he hung it up. He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, a cross between a groan and a growl, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

* * *

><p>The room wasn't much brighter when Goren woke again at 9:30. It was a dark, rainy, overcast day. He got up and showered, improving his hangover just a little. Logan was already up, sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal, watching the news. "Hey," he greeted Goren with a grin. "You don't look too worse for the wear."<p>

Goren finished tying his tie and sat beside Logan with a grunt. Logan finished the last few bites of his cereal and set the bowl on the coffee table. "Still in that great mood you've been in all week, I see."

With a deep sigh, Goren pushed his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Mike. I don't do so well without work to occupy me."

Logan recalled the years he'd watched Goren in the Major Case squad room, and he knew he spoke the truth. "You do pretty okay with Eames to distract you."

"But she's not here." He pulled himself up short before he snapped at Logan. "I, uhm, I won't be home right away. After I deal with Martino, I've gotta talk to Gerrold. I should be home around 4."

"Gerrold who?"

"I got a call earlier from Captain Gerrold. He asked me to stop by to see him. I, uh, I also had a message on my phone from Cal Lightman. I'm not so sure what to do about him."

"Do you think there's more trouble with Romeo?"

"Who knows. Lightman said he's concerned that I'm bored and he'd like to talk to me about a one-or-two time consultation."

"He wants you bad, and I don't mean the same way Eames wants you."

The first half of Logan's observation annoyed Goren, but the second half made him smile, successfully mitigating his mood. "I really don't care how much he wants me, I am not staying in Washington. New York is my home, and I want to be with Eames."

"What if she was willing to move down here?"

"She's not, but even if she was, I still prefer New York."

"You've already talked to her about it?"

"What? No. Why would I? It's not something I'm even considering."

"What makes you so sure she won't leave New York?"

"Her family is there, Mike, and she's very close to them. She'd never leave her dad and her nephew, in particular. I would never ask her to do that, and there's no way in hell I'm living down here with her living in New York. I'd go out of my mind." He got to his feet and pulled on his suit coat. "Want to meet me for lunch? I'm in the mood for a good pastrami sandwich."

"Good pastrami exists outside New York? I've found it a real challenge to find."

Taking his overcoat from its hook by the door, Goren said, "Try finding good pastrami in Korea if you want a real challenge."

"Do they even have cows in Korea?"

Goren laughed. "The base had a decent pastrami, but that's kind of a stretch. The worst I ever had in New York was better than the best I had in Korea." He shook his head slowly. "When I came home from the Army, I swore I'd never again live anywhere else. I belong in New York. This little sojourn proves it."

With a wave, he pulled on his overcoat and left the apartment. Pleased that Goren's mood seemed better when he left, Logan carried his bowl to the kitchen, washed it and looked for something to entertain him until lunchtime.

* * *

><p>Goren's side ached as he walked into the Federal Building, but he refused to take any medication for it until he was done dealing with his suddenly full day. His mind drifted as he stepped into the elevator, a common practice that kept his thoughts from dwelling on the close proximity of the walls and escalating the panic that always churned just beneath the surface when he entered any confined space. Although he tried not to focus on her because doing so caused problems that he would rather not deal with in a public setting, it was to her that his mind always seemed to turn. Under the guise of a passing thought, he wondered if he was going to spend the rest of his life a prisoner of his passion. He hoped his roiling emotions would get it together and just settle down. A brief tightening in his gut belied his anxiety over the idea that his life would never settle into any kind of pattern the world would consider normal, something he'd never really had but had always craved. But what was normal? That was a question he'd never been able to answer. Perhaps abnormal <em>was<em> normal for him. It was an interesting concept.

"Bobby," called a voice from behind him as he got off the elevator and walked toward his office.

He turned to face Turner, his expression changing to one of both respect and affection for his FBI boss. He extended his hand as Turner approached and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Turner gripped his hand for a warm handshake as Goren answered, "I'm doing much better, Vic."

"Like I told you on the phone, you really didn't have to come in. I would have dealt with Martino for you."

"I appreciate that, but she's my headache. I'll deal with her."

"I don't envy you that. Make sure you stop by to see me before you go."

Goren nodded and headed for his office. Decker joined him a few minutes later. "Good morning, Bobby. Glad to be back?"

"I wish I was back, but I'm not happy about the reason I have to be here. Where is she?"

"When she couldn't log in this morning, she went down to IT. I haven't seen her since."

"IT? She automatically assumed it was a technical issue? She didn't approach you at all?"

"Nope. Apparently, she thinks she's untouchable...and I'm a troll not worthy of her attention."

"Why would she think that?"

"Because you haven't kicked her off the project yet, despite all the crap she's pulled. She thinks you've got your eye on her, and I'm worthless because I don't."

"I do have my eye on her, but not for the reasons she thinks." He rubbed his temple, eyes closed. "God, she makes my head hurt. Go find her, Alan. I have other crap to deal with today and I want to get this over with."

"Can I stay and watch?"

Goren opened his eyes and shifted them toward his partner. Actually, having a witness wasn't a bad idea. "I think that's the best idea I've heard all week."

"I'll be back in a few."

Goren smiled at the delighted anticipation his partner expressed. He regretted the extra work that would fall to the rest of the team when he got rid of Martino, but he'd take as much of it as he could on himself. They shouldn't have to suffer the loss of time with their families because he couldn't control one of his agents. Damn.

* * *

><p>Goren looked up from the report he was reading when Decker returned with Martino and closed the door. Decker stood off to the side as she took a seat in front of the desk, making certain to angle herself so her cleavage was visible to the man behind the desk. Goren sighed. "Martino, I've talked to you before about your performance."<p>

"Nothing's wrong with my performance," she said confidently.

"Nothing, except that you keep causing major setbacks and delays."

"Those were inevitable."

He looked at Decker, easily the most tech savvy member of the team. "Decker?"

"They were inevitable only because you made them so, Martino. This project is way behind schedule because of you. That stunt you pulled the other day..."

"That was an accident!"

"Unlike the rest of it," Goren accused. "You have exactly thirty seconds to give me a valid explanation for just one of those incidents. Any one."

"I miscalculated."

"You're better than that. Every one of those incidents was intentional."

"So why do you keep me on the team?" she challenged, thrusting her chest toward him, confident she knew the answer.

The movement caught his eye, but he shifted his gaze back to her face immediately. "Everyone makes mistakes. I'm correcting a big one right now."

"What does that mean?"

"You're being reassigned. Turner will have your new assignment for you early next week. Your access has been revoked and so has your clearance for the project. I'm done playing games."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious. You're off this project, Martino."

"You can't do that!" she screeched.

Goren remained calm. "Yes, I can. And I am. Turner will determine your duties until your transfer comes through. From now on, you'll report to him. I'm done with you."

Shaking with rage, Martino glared at him before shrieking and storming from the office. Decker let out a slow breath. "If we're lucky, she'll end up in Phoenix. Until then, I'd watch my back if I were you."

"Isn't that your job, partner?"

Decker laughed. "I guess it is. Something tells me she's not going to 'go gentle into that good night'."

"Very poetic, Alan. I didn't know you were into Welsh poets."

"I didn't know you were into poets at all."

With a smile Goren quoted, "'Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'"

Decker raised his hands, a wide smile on his face. "Okay, I stand corrected. Damn, it's a shame you're taken. You're exactly my kind of man."

"Date not go so well last night?"

"It could have gone better."

"Sorry."

"Ah, well...I'll just keep looking. I'll find the right guy someday."

Goren smiled, but Decker could see his fatigue. "You should probably head home and take it easy."

"I'd like nothing more, but I have to meet up with Gerrold at 2."

"Gerrold? At MPD? Why?"

"I don't know. He didn't say. I got a call from him at seven this morning. He just said he wanted to see me."

"I'll go with you."

"That's not necessary."

"Something tells me it is. Come on. We have just enough time for lunch. My treat."

"I was going to meet Mike for lunch."

"Even better. Still my treat."

Goren nodded with an affectionate smile, "Let me stop by Vic's office and we'll get going."

After Goren moved past him and walked toward the door, Decker said, "You know the rest of it, don't you?"

"The poem? Yes. Why?"

Decker shook his head. "No reason. I just figured you did."

Turner motioned them into his office. Goren gave him a tired grin. "It's done."

"So I heard. She's not happy with you."

"The feeling is mutual. I should be back in New York by now."

"Well, what's done is done, and I can't say I'm upset about keeping you around for a couple more weeks. I already put her in for reassignment."

"Please say she's going to Phoenix," Decker said.

Turner laughed. "I haven't gotten the official word yet, but scuttlebutt has it she's heading for Tupelo."

"Mississippi?" Decker laughed. "Even better. They've got mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds down there."

Goren and Turner laughed with him. Turner leaned back in his chair. "Are you doing okay, Bobby?"

Goren shrugged. "I'm okay," he answered. "Recovering."

"It'll take time. Go home and rest."

"We have to stop by MPD to see Gerrold first. He called me this morning."

Frowning, Turner shook his head. "Watch yourself over there, boys. You don't have any fans in that district."

"We'll be careful," Decker promised.

"When do you see the doctor again, Bobby?"

"Next week."

"Keep me in the loop, okay?"

Goren nodded. "I will, Vic."

Turner watched the two agents leave. Decker said something, then nudged his partner and they both laughed as they walked toward the elevator. He smiled. They were a good team, and they shared a genuine fondness for each other. He wished all his teams got along as well as those two did.

In the elevator, Decker leaned back against the rear wall. "When's Alex coming back down?" he asked.

"Friday," Goren answered, his tone suddenly guarded.

"Good," Decker answered.

"Why?"

Decker looked at him closely. "Because you're miserable without her and I don't like seeing you miserable."

Goren was quiet as the elevator descended toward the street level. "Thanks, Alan."

"For what?"

"Just...for being a good friend."

Decker patted Goren's shoulder as they left the elevator. "That's not hard to do, buddy. Now, what do you want for lunch?"

* * *

><p>Goren stood on the sidewalk outside the MPD precinct, looking up at the brick facade of the building where he'd been detained and questioned two weeks before. Decker and Logan joined him on the sidewalk. His pain had progressed from a dull ache to a sharp stabbing, which was as welcome a distraction as the annoying itch that penetrated deep into his side. The medication that would provide him relief remained tucked in his pocket. He refused to enter the bowels of the MPD, even with Logan and Decker at his side, any further off his game than he already was. His mind had an annoying tendency of late to drift, and it always seemed to go to the same place, but he couldn't allow himself to obsess about her now as he entered unfamiliar and probably hostile territory.<p>

When Goren didn't move, Decker clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "If you're waiting for an engraved invitation, you're wasting your time. That phone call you got this morning's as good as it's gonna get."

"And it wasn't all that great," Logan added.

Goren's mouth turned up into a smile, but he didn't look at his partner or Logan. Instead, he headed into the building. Pulling open the door, he went inside with Decker and Logan following behind him.

Across the open squad room, Murphy spotted the two FBI agents and Logan. His brow furrowed into a scowl. Sanchez looked over his shoulder in the direction of his partner's glare. He muttered a swear under his breath. Murphy looked at him. "Did you know they were coming?"

Sanchez shook his head. "Not a clue, but I'll bet Gerrold knew."

"It pisses me off that he's in bed with the damn Feds now."

"Look, Murph, don't start anything, okay? They're not worth it."

"They're on our turf, man. But not for long."

Sanchez shook his head as Murphy got to his feet and crossed the squad room toward the three visitors. Goren noticed him first. His back stiffened, alerting Decker and Logan to the approaching detective. He struggled to hide his fatigue as well as his pain. Murphy spoke first, addressing Goren. "What are you doing here, New York?"

"That doesn't concern you, Washington," answered Logan.

"Our business is with your captain," Decker added.

Murphy had been watching Goren, and now he taunted, "What's the matter, New York? Cat got your tongue? Or do you always let the boys do your talking?"

Logan bristled at the jibe, but Decker nudged him and he held his tongue. Goren slowly let his gaze travel over Murphy, purposely taking his time to evaluate the detective. He shook his head in a deprecating way, then turned his back on Murphy and walked away. Decker and Logan both snickered and followed him, heading toward Gerrold's office.

"That was classic," Logan whispered with a short laugh.

"Good job, Bobby," Decker agreed.

Goren didn't say anything, but both of his companions saw the small grin that played at his mouth.

Murphy's lip curled into a sneer and he stepped toward the retreating men, but Sanchez grabbed his arm and shook his head. Although Goren hadn't said a word, his contempt came through loud and clear, and that riled Murphy, but his partner would not let him take action. Murphy swore and stormed back to his desk.

Gerrold came out of his office, extending a hand to the men who'd come to see him. "Thank you for coming by," he said as he shook hands with each man.

"Why did you need to see me?" Goren asked, clearly uncomfortable in his current surroundings.

Gerrold motioned them into his office. He sat at his desk and folded his hands in front of him. "Please, sit down."

Decker and Logan each took a seat, but Goren chose to remain standing. Gerrold continued. "I realize that my detectives may have been somewhat overzealous with their investigation in the Romeo case."

"They were doing their job," Goren replied, his tone guarded but not angry.

"Yes, but their bulldog approach is not the way I run my squad."

He opened a drawer and pulled out a large envelope, which he held out to Goren. "These are yours, Agent Goren."

Goren's brow furrowed, and he took the envelope, opened it and removed the contents. He looked through a small stack of video surveillance photos, his face darkening with anger. Most had been taken out on the street, which was public domain. Although the pictures irritated him, he wasn't angry until he came to the ones that had been taken in his apartment. "Did you approve this?"

"No. That is why I am returning them to you, along with the negatives. They did not have authorization to step it up to video surveillance. The evidence did not support an investigation at that level."

Goren continued looking through the pictures, his anger increasing with each picture taken within his apartment. "This would take a court order..."

"Which they did not have. Sometimes, Murphy gets carried away. He honestly thought he would get enough evidence to support a court order."

"That's not how it works, captain!" He waved the stack of pictures. "This amounts to voyeurism and a violation of my rights, not to mention Logan's and Eames'. They weren't under investigation! What do you call that? Collateral damage? What evidence did he hope to get in my bedroom?"

"I will deal with him. You have my word."

Goren went very still, and Logan swallowed the urge to make a comment about impending doom. Goren handed the pictures to Logan, who looked through them with Decker as Goren spoke again, his tone low and dangerous. "He needs to apologize to them, verbally and in writing."

Every man in the room knew it was the very least that should be done. They also knew how unlikely it was to happen. Gerrold had hoped that Goren would just accept the pictures with his apology and move on, and that would have been exactly what would have happened had Eames not been involved.

"I'm sorry, Agent Goren," said Gerrold, and he was sincere. But that wasn't good enough for Goren. Without another word, he turned and left the office. Decker groaned. "This is not going to end well," he muttered.

"Nope," Logan agreed as they left the office after Goren. "Bobby..."

Goren crossed the squad room toward Murphy and Sanchez, who were seated at their desks. Murphy got to his feet as Goren drew closer. Goren pointed a finger at Murphy as he stopped in front of the detective. "You were investigating _me_. You had no right dragging the others into it."

"Don't tell me how to investigate a murder," Murphy snarled.

"_I_ was your suspect, and I don't have a problem with your investigation of _me_," Goren replied. "I have a big problem with you dragging Logan and Eames into it. They should never have been on your radar."

"Guilt by association," Murphy taunted as he realized the best way to get to Goren was through his companions.

Logan gestured at Murphy. "I don't know how it works here in the Capitol, but in New York, we have this little thing called probable cause. Want me to explain it to you?"

Murphy started toward Logan, but Goren stood in his way and didn't move. The Washington detective curled his hand into a fist, gripped it with his other hand and rammed his elbow, hard, into Goren's injured side. Pain exploded in Goren's chest. A blinding light flashed behind his eyes and then everything went black. Murphy lunged past him as he went down, right for Logan.

Decker jumped to grab Goren as he collapsed and Logan went for Murphy. The fight didn't last long. Detectives from around the room hurried over and Gerrold came storming out of his office. Sanchez and another detective grabbed Murphy and held him fast while two other detectives did the same to Logan. Decker knelt on the floor with Goren's head resting in his lap, not sure exactly what had happened or what to do about it. Gerrold ordered someone to call for a bus as he turned to face Murphy. "What the hell, detective?" he demanded. "Just what I don't need—another IAB investigation _and_ another suspension for you, Murphy. Hand over your badge and your sidearm."

Sanchez stepped away from his partner's side to walk to the gun lockers and retrieve Murphy's piece for the captain. Furious, Murphy yanked his badge off his belt and threw it at Logan.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: _Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night_ is by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), published in 1951.**

**Well, my friend insubordinationfreak, you said you wondered what direction this story was going to take. I found one, so let's see where it leads :-)  
><strong>


	31. She's A Detective, You Know

Goren came around slowly, his head muffled by the unfortunately familiar side effects of powerful pain killers. He heard soft voices that belonged to Logan and Decker, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He moved and pain shot up his side and through his chest. The voices fell silent when he groaned.

"Hey, buddy," said Logan softly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"E-Eames...?" Goren asked.

Logan shook his head. "She'll knock me into next week, but no, we haven't called her yet."

He relaxed a little. "G-Good. Don't want her to worry. I, uh...what happened?"

Logan and Decker looked at each other. "You got blind-sided by Murphy," said Decker. "Mike was ready to rip his head off but Gerrold put a stop to it."

Goren rubbed his side and groaned deeply. "I didn't see that coming."

"Neither did we."

Logan said, "They want to admit you for the night..."

"No."

"That's what I told 'em you'd say."

Goren pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around the room. His fingers gently prodded his side. "What damage did he do?" he asked.

"They did a series of x-rays," said Decker. "And it looks like you got lucky. You'll have more bruising and more pain, but he didn't do anything that would cause complications of your healing."

Goren nodded slowly. "Good."

He got off the bed, and Logan caught him when he faltered. The room continued to dip and spin as Logan and Decker helped him back onto the bed. "They gave you something for the pain," Logan said. "They said it was strong."

Goren laid back on the bed, glad that it didn't hurt so much to breathe. He took a slow, deep breath and he grinned at his two friends. "Think you can get me home?" he challenged.

"Maybe you should stay for a bit," Logan replied. "An arm full of that stuff's made you a lot more pleasant."

Goren closed his eyes and let the room spin around him. "Sorry, guys," he said quietly. "I..."

He trailed off because he didn't know what to say. A combination of pain and frustration coupled with Eames' absence had turned him into a real bear. A hand came to rest on his arm; another settled on his knee. He opened his eyes and looked at the two men. Decker grinned first. "It's okay, buddy."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. We get it."

And he knew that they did. "Thanks," he murmured, suddenly sleepy.

He yawned and closed his eyes. He spent the night in the hospital.

* * *

><p>Goren wasn't happy when he woke the next morning in a hospital room. He was, however, surprised to find both Logan and Decker there with him, each one sleeping in a chair. His anger faded. He hadn't wanted to stay but they couldn't very well haul him home unconscious, so they'd stayed with him.<p>

The door opened and a nurse came into the room, carrying a syringe. She smiled when she saw that he was awake. "Good morning," she said as she approached his bedside.

He nodded, but he didn't say anything. He moved, and he wasn't able to contain a soft groan of pain. "You have a good amount of bruising and, being so soon after your surgery, it's going to hurt for a good while."

"Good...what's so good about any of this?" he grumbled.

She gently grasped his wrist and measured his heart rate, then counted his respirations, which were a little labored. She opened and alcohol prep pad and swiped the port of his IV line, which he hadn't realized he even had until that moment, and injected the contents of the syringe into his line. "Give that a minute or two and you won't be so grouchy any more."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Logan said from across the room.

"I don't know," Decker said. "He wasn't so grumpy last night."

"You mean before he crashed and burned?"

"Yeah. Whatever they gave him last night, it knocked him for a loop."

"A couple of loops," Logan amended.

The nurse laughed. "This stuff isn't quite as strong."

"Good," said Goren. "I'm going home."

"That's up to your doctor."

"No. It's up to me. I wanted to go home last night, but someone ambushed me."

Logan grinned. "If it makes you feel better, she was blonde and busty and had legs up to her chin."

"It doesn't," Goren retorted, but his tone was much lighter.

With a grin to match Logan's, Decker said, "What if we told you he was blond and buff with muscles to his ears?"

"I'd see if I could get his number for you."

"Hey," Logan complained. "What about me?"

"Okay, I'd get his number for you, too," Goren replied without missing a beat.

The three men laughed as the nurse shook her head in amusement and started for the door.

"Uhm, nurse..." Goren called after her.

She turned as she got to the door. "Yes?"

"I want to go home."

"I'll send the doctor in as soon as he gets here."

He frowned but he didn't argue. She left the room.

* * *

><p>The doctor arrived just after the men finished breakfast, and he agreed to let Goren go home. After stressing how fortunate Goren was to have avoided another major injury, he told him he wanted to see him in the office in two weeks. He sent him home with strict orders to take it easy and a prescription for powerful pain medicine.<p>

It took a lot of pressing and cajoling for Decker and Logan to finally get Goren to consent to letting them fill his prescription. By the time they got to Goren's apartment, his mood had worsened. He refused to take the pain medicine and finally retreated to his bedroom.

"His mood's been like this all week, you say?" Decker asked.

"Not quite this bad, but yeah."

"And you're not on your way back to New York yet?"

"Don't think the thought didn't cross my mind, but can you just imagine what a bear he'd be if he didn't have someone to distract him? Besides, when he gets bad, I just imagine all the ways Alex is gonna owe me for this."

Decker laughed. "I'm not sure I'd want to owe anyone that much."

"Exactly."

Decker took a drink of the cola Logan had gotten for him. "You guys been friends long?"

"About four years. First time I met him, I wasn't sure what to think. I wasn't sure I even liked the guy. Then he saved my life, and I realized how much like an iceberg he is. The face that he turns to the outside world is just a small fraction of the man he is. I decided to give him a chance, and I never looked back. I'd skip through the fires of hell in my shorts for him, which is why I'm still here. He never asked, and he'd never admit that he needs someone around to kind of focus him, someone he trusts, but I get him, and so I hang around. Sometimes, he just needs a puppy to kick, so to speak, and I'm used to being kicked."

"How'd it happen? How'd you get that close?"

"It wasn't easy, but looking back, I can't tell you how or when it happened. He has a lot of buddies but not too many real friends. You work and work to try to get close to him, and sometimes it seems like you are, but then you realize, he never really let you in. So you keep trying and then, suddenly, you're there and you never saw it happen."

Decker pressed his lips together in a tight line, then took another drink. "I don't think I've ever met a guy like him."

"There aren't many guys like him out there, fortunately for the rest of us. Or maybe unfortunately. I don't know—it depends on the day you ask, how I feel."

They heard the bedroom door followed by movement in the hallway. Goren appeared in the doorway and looked at the two men, the only friends he had in Washington. They looked back at him and waited expectantly. Goren leaned his shoulder against the wall and finally said, "I, uhm, I'm sorry. I...I've been a bit out of sorts and...and I've kind of taken it out on you guys."

"Not kind of," Logan replied. "But it's fine. Your medicine is on the counter in the kitchen."

Goren nodded. "Uhm, do you think we could, maybe, uh, not tell Alex what happened?"

Logan snorted. "Yeah, right. And when she does find out, not one of us is gonna be worth the chemicals we're made of."

"How would she find out if we didn't tell her?"

"Did you seriously just ask me that? She's a detective, remember? And not just any detective. She's had your example to follow for the past, what, ten years? A leaf will blow past the window and she'll smack you upside the head and want to know why you were in the hospital. Then she'll come after Alan and me for not telling her."

Decker laughed and said, "Or maybe she'll find out a less surreal way, like coming across a hospital statement or answering a call from the doctor or from someone who hasn't been briefed that she doesn't know."

Goren's face had relaxed and his scowl was gone. They each had a point. Something in his body language or his mailbox would give him away. "I guess I'd better call her."

"She's at work now," Logan offered, giving him the opportunity to postpone the inevitable.

Goren smiled. "Yeah...maybe she won't yell at me quite so much."

Decker grabbed Goren's cell phone from the coffee table and tossed it to him. Goren caught it, but he looked flustered. "I...uhm, thanks. You know, you didn't have to stay last night."

"Yeah, I know," Decker answered. "But you were out like a light and someone had to hang around to keep this guy out of trouble."

"Hey," Logan protested.

Goren laughed, but that was a mistake. The color drained from his face as the pain in his side shot through his body. Logan and Decker both moved to the edge of their seats until he waved them off and some of his color returned. "I, uh...they say...laughter's the best medicine...unless it's not. For me, right now, it's not."

"Why don't you sit down?" Logan suggested, pointing to the recliner in the corner where Goren liked to sit and read.

"Before you fall down," Decker added.

When Goren scowled at him, he shrugged, "What? You want to go back to that ER?"

Moving slowly, Goren limped to the chair and sat heavily with a groan. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and carefully began to breathe again. Decker got up and retrieved a glass of water and a tablet from the prescription bottle. Goren took both and swallowed the pill without any fuss. With his eyes closed, he focused on each breath, then slowly pushed his awareness out beyond his pain as it began to calm and settle into his side. He released a long, slow breath and opened his eyes. Logan and Decker were both watching him with concern. "I'm okay," he assured them, and they relaxed.

The heavy silence of the room lightened. Goren stared at his phone until Logan said, "You have to dial, Bobby."

Decker finished his soda and said, "Yeah, but if he dials, she might answer. Then he'd have to talk to her...tell her what happened..."

Logan nodded. "And talk her out of jumping in the car and racing down here."

As attractive as that scenario was to Goren, he shook his head. "I don't want..." he trailed off, unsure of exactly what he _did_ want.

Logan arched an eyebrow. "You don't want her coming down?"

"Of course I do...just, not under those circumstances. I don't...I don't want her to worry."

"Don't you think she does that anyway?" Decker asked.

"Well, yeah, but I don't want to fuel that worry."

"You get into trouble every time you're out of her sight," Logan said. "I don't think you need to fuel anything."

Goren looked at the phone as he turned it over in his hands. If he called her cell, he knew she would be alarmed because he was calling at an off time. Three in the morning never bothered her. But call her at three in the afternoon and she knew there was a problem. He waited until he felt the medicine he'd taken begin to work, then he called her desk. "Eames," she answered.

His medicine was beginning to kick in and the sound of her voice added to his lightheadedness. "Hi, uhm, I...it's me."

"Isn't he eloquent?" Logan teased.

Goren shot him an annoyed look as Eames answered, "Bobby? What's wrong?"

"Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?"

"At work in the middle of the afternoon with Ross almost in the same room? There'd better be."

He smiled and nestled himself into the chair as he listened to her voice. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Are you okay?" she asked with concern.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Have you started drinking already?"

"What? No. It's not even noon."

"Actually, it's almost two. Bobby, what's wrong?"

Logan got up and walked over to the chair, holding out his hand. Goren placed the phone into it, leaned back and closed his eyes. With a grin, Logan spoke into the phone. "Hi, honey, it's me."

"Don't call me honey. What's wrong with him?"

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Logan..."

He laughed and said, "It's nothing to worry about, Alex. He's fine. He got hit in the side yesterday and spent the night in the hospital, but he's okay. There's more bruising and more pain right now, but no underlying damage was done."

She was quiet for a minute. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I stayed with him so I got the doctor's report, too."

"He doesn't sound okay."

"He is. They gave him medicine that knocks him on his ass, that's all."

She let out a breath of relief. "How did he get hit?"

"He ran into Murphy at MPD yesterday. That never goes well and it was worse than usual. It just gets under Murphy's skin that Goren's not a killer."

"He ran into Murphy? Literally?"

"Not quite. Not _into_ Murphy. More like his elbow. Bobby found out something about the investigation that he didn't appreciate and he confronted the little leprechaun. It didn't turn out so well for Bobby."

"What about Murphy?"

"After the little prick slammed him in the side, he dropped like a rock. He didn't have a chance to retaliate. I managed to get in a few good punches, but Gerrold put a stop to it quick."

"You were there, too?"

"Yeah. And Decker."

"Put him back on."

He nudged Goren's shoulder. "Hey, it's for you."

Goren roused himself and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Alex...hi...I, uhm, yeah. I'm fine."

"How's your side?"

"It kinda hurts. It's, uhm...it...I miss you."

She felt her insides turn to jello. "So do I," she said softly. "Look, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Mmhn-hmn. Okay."

"Go to sleep."

He muttered something else and Logan took the phone. "You still there?"

"I am. I'm going in to talk to Ross now."

"Alex, he doesn't want you going out of your way..."

"Just watch him until I get there."

He knew from the tone of her voice that he'd never talk her out of it, so he didn't try. "See you in a few hours," he sighed.

The line went dead and he set the phone on the coffee table. "Is she upset?" Decker asked.

"She's worried. After that conversation, she needs to see him to be reassured." He looked at Goren, who was now sleeping. "Can't say I blame her too much."

"She on her way?"

"Yep, and it'll be a total surprise for him since he won't remember any of that conversation."

"Mind if I stay?"

"You any good at chess?"

"Fair to midland, I guess."

"I'll get the game board."


	32. The Answer Lies Within

Logan and Decker looked up when the front door opened. Both of them smiled when Eames came into the apartment and set her bag by the door. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, settling on Goren, still sleeping in the recliner. She looked at the two men sitting on the floor with a chess board between them. "Something wrong with the table?" she asked.

Logan shook his head. "It's more comfortable on the floor." He held up a beer. "Not so far to fall."

She smiled. "Who's winning?"

"That's hard to tell," said Decker. "We're pretty evenly matched."

Logan grinned. "It's nice to have an opponent I have a chance to beat every once in awhile."

She smiled with affection at them as she pulled off her coat and hung it by the door, next to Goren's. After slipping off her shoes, she asked, "How is he?"

"He hasn't moved since he talked to you," Decker answered.

Her brow furrowed with concern and she walked over to him. Squatting beside the chair, she caressed his face. He stirred and slowly opened his eyes. His mouth turned up into a smile. "I like this dream," he said sleepily.

"So do I," she answered, leaning forward to kiss him.

He slid his arm around her and gently guided her onto the chair with him. Pain roused him to full consciousness and he realized that the woman in his lap wasn't a dream. "Al-Alex," he murmured against her mouth.

She pulled back and stroked his chin with her fingertips. "Hi," she said softly.

"I, uhm...I..." He looked concerned. "Is it Friday?"

Her face relaxed into a warm, amused smile. "No. It's still Wednesday."

"And...why are you here?"

"Because I got worried. Are you okay?"

His attention shifted to Logan and Decker, and he scowled. "Which one of you told her?"

"Neither of us," Logan answered. "She's a detective, remember? We decided that one of us had to tell her because she was going to find out and then all three of us would be in a world of hurt for not telling her in the first place."

"So you told her," Decker added. "And Mike filled in the blanks."

Goren's concern increased as he shook his head. "I...I don't remember..."

"We didn't figure you would," Logan assured him.

"That's not...I...I don't like that," Goren said with a frown. "You're sure I talked to her?"

"We stood right here while you did."

He looked at Eames, who nodded. "You did call me. You didn't say much, but you called."

With a soft, frustrated growl, Goren said, "I don't like that damn medicine. It makes me..." he paused.

"Loopy?" offered Logan.

"Fuzzy," Goren corrected.

"You didn't complain about it when it stopped the pain," Logan replied.

"It's not supposed to stop my brain from working."

Eames stepped into the conversation. "Do you still have anything left from the other prescription?"

"Yes."

"Is it better?"

"That depends on what you mean by better. It doesn't mess me up so much, but it's not as effective for the pain."

"But it's effective?"

"Yeah."

"So take that and save the strong one for when it's really bad."

He rested his arm across her lap and lightly stroked her side as he studied her. "You...I..." He paused and reached up to caress her cheek. "I'm glad you came today."

"So am I."

"Me, too," chimed in Logan.

Goren's mouth set in a grim line and Eames twisted her position to look at him, her eyebrow cocked quizzically. Logan grinned at them. "He's just a little grouchy when you're not around."

She shifted back to look at Goren. "Grouchy?"

"I, uhm, I don't like not having anything to do..."

"...and only me to do it with," Logan concluded.

Goren rested his hands on her thighs, gently stroking her pants with his thumbs. She gently tugged at the center of his shirt. "Let me see it."

"See what?" he asked as he grasped her hand.

She slid her hand free and grasped the edge of his t-shirt, gently lifting it toward his head and tugging. "C'mon, Bobby. Off with it. I want to see."

He hesitated before he let her pull off his t-shirt. She examined the muscle definition of his chest as she caressed his skin with the tips of her fingers. He closed his eyes and his hands tightened on her legs. She appreciated the effort he was making to get fit and healthy, and he liked the feel of her fingers over his skin. Slowly, she forced her attention to his injured side, and she softly gasped at the sight of it. He opened his eyes. "Wh-What?"

Blood had seeped through the bandage on his side. Extensive bruising spread in all directions from under the gauze, deep shades of blue and purple. Her attention now fully on his side, she said, "There's blood on your bandage. There shouldn't be any blood..."

Logan explained, "Murphy hit him hard enough to reopen the incision. The doctor had to stitch it up again, and he wasn't happy about it at all. He said Bobby was lucky Murphy missed that fractured rib. It would have damaged that lung again."

She leaned over to look more closely at the bruising. With a light touch, she stroked the discoloration. He closed his eyes again and swallowed a groan. His breathing changed noticeably and his hands moved to her waist and squeezed. When her head turned suddenly and her lips unexpectedly touched his, his hands left her waist and slid up her back. He pulled her to his chest as she buried her hands in his hair.

Logan nudged Decker. "C'mon, Alan. Let's go get some dinner. My treat this time."

With a smile and a nod, Decker agreed. They left the apartment and the couple in the recliner never noticed.

* * *

><p>Logan returned to the apartment alone with a couple of carry-out containers. Eames was on the couch, watching a Jimmy Stewart movie. She had changed into sweats and had a blanket tucked around her. Logan looked around the otherwise-empty room. "What did you do to him?"<p>

"He's sleeping."

"Medicated?"

"Worn out."

He grinned. "Even better." He paused as if to say something, then changed his mind. He held up the plastic bag he carried instead. "Dinner? I brought chicken parm and lasagne. Alan sent chocolate cake for dessert. He said to tell you everything is better with chocolate."

She laughed. "He has a point. I'll take the lasagne. Bobby likes chicken parm better."

She turned off the movie and followed him into the kitchen. "What were you going to say, Mike?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just now. You were going to say something."

He unpacked the bag, setting the container of cake aside on the counter and lifting a plate from the dish drain. He transferred the lasagne to the plate. "Before this whole mess started, Bobby was okay. He was down here to do a job, and when it was done, he was coming home. He was looking at a couple of months, maybe. Not much more than that. He discovered that he missed you, but it wasn't really much of a surprise. After all, you guys have been close for years. When you have almost daily contact with someone for over a decade, and then suddenly they aren't there, well, you kinda notice. Friend or enemy, you miss 'em. Once you weren't there any more, it hit him like a ton of bricks, and he finally realized that he was in love with you. That knocked him off balance, Alex, and he never recovered. He's still reeling under the impact of that discovery."

"What's the big deal?" she asked, not because she thought it wasn't a big deal, but because she wanted his take on it.

Silent, he opened the refrigerator and took out a package of mozzarella cheese. Holding it up, he gave her a questioning look. She realized he was stalling to gather his thoughts, and she nodded. He took out a cheese grater and began to shred the cheese. "How much have you two talked about your feelings?"

"Not at all. How much have you and he talked about it?"

"More than I'm comfortable with. But somehow, I became his sounding board. I'm getting used to it."

Her heart took a stumble and embraced Logan. "He's lucky to have you, Mike."

"Well, you have your sister. He needed someone and people aren't beating down his door to be his friend."

"That's their loss."

"Yeah, it is. Being his friend has its price, but I'm willing to pay it, several times over."

"Is that because he saved your life?"

"At first it was. But he's earned it."

"And do you think he'll be okay with you talking about him with me?"

"No, I don't. Not at first, but he'll get over it. This is important."

"Go on then."

"Why do you think he first hopped into bed with you?"

"Because he was wasted."

Logan laughed. "No. No, he wasn't. But he wanted you to think he was. Then either one of you could back out graciously, no harm, no foul. Alcohol excuses a lot of hurts."

"Are you kidding me? He wasn't drunk?"

"Nope. Not even tipsy. He was well within his right mind and he knew exactly what he was doing."

Her face colored. "He intentionally got me drunk, then?"

"No. You got you drunk. He just didn't stop you."

"So he took advantage of me?"

"Did he?"

She let her anger fade without hanging onto it. "No," she admitted. "I...I wanted to get drunk, and I wanted him drunk, too. I thought I had it both ways."

"Why did you want it both ways?"

"Because...I wanted him, and I knew the only way that was going to happen was if we were both trashed."

"Normally, you'd be right. But not that night. He...He wanted to get lost that night, but I wouldn't let him take off alone. He had a lot weighing him down. He was still grieving over his mom and his brother, and he had the added guilt of never having made peace with Frank. Then there was the rift between you guys..."

"We were better by then," she insisted.

"True, but he was still insecure about your relationship and he wanted to make it right. He just didn't know how."

"Of course _talking_ about it never occurred to him."

"He's a guy. Why would he talk about it? We don't do that."

She muttered something under her breath before motioning for him to continue. She was annoyed, but her curiosity trumped her irritation. "Go on, Mike."

"Don't get mad at him. Look, what I'm trying to explain is that in the beginning, it really was just about sex. He wanted you, and he thought that maybe sex would be a way to, I don't know...adjust your attitude, maybe make things better between you."

"He thought I was pmsing and getting laid would make it better?"

"Something like that."

Scowling, she watched him cover the plate with a paper towel and set it in the microwave. After programming it and pressing start, he turned to face her. "I'm not done. That was what he was thinking at first, but it's not what happened."

"If I had known..."

"Uh-huh, and that's why we don't talk about things. That's the way we are, Alex. It always starts out being about the sex. So before you keep being mad, listen to the rest of what I have to say. He was sober that night, which hadn't been his plan at all. You weren't sober, and you started coming on to him, hard. So he figured, what the hell? It certainly couldn't make things worse between you. And if it didn't work out right, all he had to do was open another bottle of wine and you wouldn't remember it in the morning. So he took you to bed and, honey, you changed his life."

She punched his shoulder. "Don't call me honey. And what do you mean, I changed his life?"

"It all began as a casual sex, friends with benefits kinda thing. He never intended for it to be more, but it was. Maybe it didn't happen that night, but it happened quickly. Part of the reason he was okay with it was because he loved you. That wasn't a surprise to anyone. What knocked him on his ass was when he realized that he was _in_ love with you. He didn't expect that, and he didn't know what the hell to do with it."

"What was the problem?"

"Alex, how many times do you think he's been in love in his life? I mean really head-over-heels in love."

She shrugged. "I don't know. A dozen times."

"No," came a familiar voice from behind her. She spun to face him as he quietly said, "Once."

He walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a can of cola and popped it open. He was still frowning. "I've been in lust plenty of times, but not in love. Not until you came along and set my life askew."

She waved a hand and laughed, giving him a chance to act like he'd been joking. "Go on. You're teasing me."

The scowl did not break into a joking smile. "Just once," he repeated, then he walked out of the kitchen.

Eames looked at Logan, who gave her just a passing look as he turned to take her lasagne out of the microwave. She went after Goren, sitting beside him on the couch. She waited for him to speak, and finally, he said, "What was it for you, at the very beginning?"

Logan came into the room and, giving Goren an apologetic look, he handed her the plate of hot lasagne. She nodded and set it on her lap. Still without answering Goren, she sliced a bite off the main body of the casserole and, blowing on it to cool it, put it in her mouth. After she swallowed, she said, "A mistake. For me, it was a mistake at the very first."

Her answer did not surprise him. He'd kind of known she felt that way, although she'd never said so. "And now? Is it still a mistake?"

"No, Bobby," she answered without hesitation. "It's not a mistake. It never was."

He leaned back and rubbed his side, glad to have physical pain to give him focus. He didn't have focus any other way. She shifted closer to him, placing her hand over his. "When did you know that you felt that way?"

"I never had an 'ah-hah' moment, Alex. I just...I knew that my feelings were changing, and then...then, before I knew what was happening, before I could stop it, there it was."

"Would you have stopped it, if you could have?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."

"Why?"

"Because I could tell you weren't feeling the same."

She set her plate on the coffee table and leaned over to kiss him. "I was just running a little bit behind you. That's all." She slid her palm along his cheek. "Look at me now, Bobby. What do you see?"

"I-I'm not exactly on my game right now, Alex."

"You've been seeing it for weeks, sweetheart," she said softly. "What have you been seeing?"

Her tender touch and sweet expression warmed his heart. "Love," he whispered as he leaned in and kissed her.

She folded her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. She pulled back as Logan returned with a plate of chicken parm and set it on the coffee table beside her lasagne. "C'mon, guys. Eat up. I am not heating it up again."

Eames handed Goren his plate and took hers into her lap. She waited until he cut a piece of his chicken, then she speared it and ate it. "Hey," he protested.

She laughed, relieved when he smiled back at her. Mike joined them, plopping into the recliner with a piece of cake. As Eames cut a piece of lasagne, she asked, "Are you sure you're okay, Bobby? What did the doctors say?"

"They say I'm fine, other than a little more bruising and a lot more pain."

Speaking around the cake in his mouth, Logan said, "Lucky for Murphy, he didn't do any underlying damage. I swear on all that's holy, I was ready to put Murphy in the hospital. Too bad Gerrold wouldn't let me."

"What is Murphy's problem?"

"I am," Goren answered with a frown.

"But why?"

"Because he was wrong," Goren said simply.

Logan added, "He was so convinced that Bobby killed those girls that he couldn't swallow the truth when he was proven wrong."

"So—pride?"

"That's why it's one of the seven deadly sins," Logan said with a nod.

"Why were you guys even there?"

Goren and Logan looked at each other, and Eames looked back and forth between them. "Are you in trouble again?" she asked, focusing her gaze on Goren.

He shook his head. "Uh, no."

"So—what? Did you have a reason to be around Murphy?"

Goren took another bite of his chicken, toying around in his head with how he was going to tell her what Gerrold had wanted. "Captain Gerrold asked me to come by. Logan and Decker went along...well, just because."

"I think that was prudent."

Logan waved his fork. "Never go into enemy territory alone."

"The local police station shouldn't be enemy territory."

"Shouldn't," Goren agreed. "But with Murphy there..."

She conceded that. "So what did Gerrold want?"

"He had to return some personal property."

"Personal property? You were never under arrest. What personal property did he have?"

Goren set his plate on the coffee table and looked at Logan, who met his eyes. Finally, Goren nodded. Logan got up and walked over to the end table near Eames. He had placed the envelope with the pictures in it there after they got Goren home and he retreated to his room. He handed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked, setting her plate on the table and turning over the blank envelope.

"Part of Murphy's investigation," Goren said.

"The illegal part," Logan added.

"Take a look," Goren told her.

Opening the envelope, she slid out the pictures and looked through them. "Surveillance?" she said, her tone one of disbelief. "They had you under video surveillance?"

"Apparently."

She looked confused and then angry. "What judge signed a court order for video surveillance on the evidence they had?"

"That's just it, Alex," Goren said. "They didn't have a court order."

"Hence the 'illegal part' I mentioned," said Logan.

She sat back and rested the pictures in her lap. "Where are the negatives?"

"In my inside jacket pocket."

"It hurts my head to even think about the liberties Murphy took during this investigation," she said. "Now this, and assault on top of it. What is being done to him?"

"Gerrold suspended him," Logan offered.

"It's an MPD matter," Goren agreed.

"Are you okay with letting it go with that?" Eames asked, her tone making it clear that she was not.

Goren studied her, his head cocked a little to the left. "I, uh, I was..."

"...until he saw _that_ face."

Eames gave him a look, then returned her attention to Goren. "Bobby, he can't get away with this. What's next? A green light on illegal search and seizure?"

"He's not getting away with anything, Alex. Gerrold is handling it."

"So is their IAB," Logan added.

"But..."

Goren leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss. "I'll know if they've dealt with it to my satisfaction."

"How, Bobby? How do you know they won't just sweep it under the carpet. We've seen it happen a thousand times."

"If Murphy issues a written and verbal apology to you and to Logan, then I'll know that Gerrold took me seriously."

"But you..."

"Don't worry about me."

"But..."

"Alex, you can't right every wrong in the world. Sometimes, whatever little bit you get has to be enough."

Irritated, she turned to face front, arms folded across her chest. Logan swallowed a laugh. "You're gonna pout?"

"Shut up, Logan," she snapped.

Both men laughed, and Goren doubled over with a groan. Relieved of her irritation by his discomfort, Eames turned back to him, laying her hand on his back. Once the pain receded, he sat back and put his arm around her. She snuggled into his side. "He was wrong," she insisted stubbornly, picking up the pictures from the seat beside her.

"I know," he agreed, placing a kiss on her head.

"He should be punished," she said.

"I know," he agreed again, placing a kiss on her temple.

"You're not going to talk me out of..."

He touched her lips with his finger and whispered, "Yeah, I know."

Replacing his finger with his mouth, he kissed her. She pulled back suddenly and hit him with the pictures. "Stop trying to distract me."

"What are you gonna do about it, Alex? Go to Ross? He'll want to see the pictures."

He had a point. The more noise she made, the more people were going to take notice. Unfortunately, she had no control over which things caught their attention. She looked through the pictures again and pulled one out. It had been taken in the bedroom and showed Goren, wearing only a towel around his waist, looking at someone outside the frame with an expression of deep desire. She held out the picture. "I kind of like this one."

"You do?"

She pulled out another one, also taken in the bedroom. They were in bed, and he was above her, holding his weight off her with one hand on either side of her head. Her face wasn't visible, but he was smiling as he looked down at her. Her hands were braced on his chest. "This one's nice, too," she added.

He looked at the picture, and then at her. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at pictures," she answered innocently.

He looked at Logan, then back at Eames. "I...uhm, you like them?"

"Considering them apart from the source, and just looking at them as pictures, yes, there are some that I really like."

He rubbed his side, which ached, even under the influence of the pain medicine he'd taken a few hours ago. She ran her hand over his thigh, sensing his unrest. "Is that a problem, that I like some of these pictures?"

"Yes...I mean...no...I don't know."

"There's nothing wrong with them."

"Not with the pictures themselves, although they shouldn't exist."

"So what's bothering you?"

"Not the pictures, but the fact that they were taken without anyone's consent, that Murphy and his pals were...looking at, well, at you."

"I wasn't visibly naked in any of them, Bobby."

"But...after looking at these, there's no doubt...about certain things."

She pulled out a picture of her and Logan, laughing together on the couch. "Really? Someone looking at this one without knowing better would think I'm dating Logan."

"What about these, with you and me in bed? They don't leave much to the imagination."

"My face isn't clearly visible in the bed. It easily could have been another woman."

"They knew it was you. Anyone who knows me will know that it's you."

"Bobby, no one is doing anything wrong in any of those pictures. Aside from the fact that they were taken illegally during a murder investigation, there's nothing wrong with them.

She stroked his side lightly and he softly groaned. Pain and pleasure were almost interchangeable at times, and this was one of them. She handed his plate to him. With a soft sigh, he sat back to finish his dinner.

* * *

><p>He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her change. Absently, he scratched his side until she stepped up to him and drew his hand away from the injury. Placing his hands on her waist, she slid her arms around his neck and stroked the back of his neck with her fingertips. "Mike said you've been a bear. What's up with that?"<p>

He shrugged and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her sleep shirt. He teased her hips and lightly tickled her waist, delighted when she squirmed. "I've missed you," he explained as he wrestled her to the bed.

She didn't struggle, though she knew that was what he wanted. She was unwilling to cause him further pain when she had other ways to incite his libido. With a gentle shove, she rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist. "You have to cope until this job of yours is done."

"I cope better when I'm working and I have something to do."

"When will the doctor let you go back to work?"

"I'll discuss that with him next week when I see him."

She lightly scratched his ribs. "So, in the meantime, I'll stay here with you to make sure you're sufficiently distracted. How does that sound?"

"Ross..."

"Ross doesn't know where I am and he doesn't have to know. I just told him I wanted to take some time off since we don't have an active case at the moment. He didn't ask any questions."

He smiled. "'Ask me no questions; I'll tell you no lies.'"

"Exactly."

She leaned down and kissed him, slowly shifting her body against his. He groaned softly and surrendered to her.


	33. A Break in the Pattern

Goren was glad to have Eames there, even if he didn't always show it. His restless nights were much more tolerable when he woke up holding her. Most days, she was able to keep him distracted or occupied, even though he was often bored and restless. She hated that he tried to push the limits of his current abilities, and she did her best to keep him from causing himself further harm. Her years as his partner had taught her to read him well, and she knew when he was okay and when he wasn't. The days when his pain got the better of him and she called him out on it were bad ones, but she tried to be understanding and his irritation usually faded quickly. She quickly learned to be gentle with him. He responded to anger with anger, and that never turned out well.

By the time his appointment rolled around, he was ready to deal with the doctor, to convince him that he was better than he actually was. He had a feeling the doctor was going to try to tell him that he needed more time to recuperate—because he _did _need more time to recuperate—but he wanted to get back to work so he could finish his job and go home to New York. Even with Eames there, he was irritable without the job to distract him and keep him busy, and the pain in his side only added to his bad mood. More and more, he was ready to argue and he was quickly getting to the point that he didn't care who was on the receiving end of his temper. Logan was best able to handle him when he was in that kind of mood; he didn't argue back. Eames, however, always seemed ready for a fight, and he was getting to the point that he would give her one. His life had become a disaster in the making, and it was only going to get worse if he couldn't return to work.

* * *

><p>The doctor entered the exam room with a file in one hand and an x-ray in the other. His demeanor was fairly cheery, which Goren didn't appreciate. "How are we feeling today?" the doctor asked as he stuck the x-ray on a light box and flipped it on.<p>

"I don't know about you, but I'm fine," Goren answered, struggling to keep his tone at least neutral.

"Still taking pain medicine?" he asked as he studied the radiograph.

"Sometimes."

"Take off your shirt and let me have a look."

Reluctantly, Goren pulled off his shirt. He no longer allowed Eames to bandage his incision. It was healing just fine, he insisted, and she didn't argue with him about it. But he'd woken several times to find her spreading aloe vera ointment on the injury which would help it to heal. The only thing that kept his irritation in check and prevented him from letting her know he was awake and didn't approve was that it felt good, so he let it go.

As he examined the incision, the doctor asked, "How has your mood been?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything."

"I'm fine."

Straightening away from his patient, the doctor looked at Eames for clarification. She hesitated before answering, "He's okay a lot of the time, but he's bored and impatient to get back to work. That makes him grouchy."

With a smile, the doctor opened the file and began to write. "I'm not surprised. Okay, Agent Goren, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Your x-ray looks good; you're healing well. Since your girlfriend here seems to have a handle on your mood and a real concern for your well being, I'm going to give you the okay to go back to work, starting Monday. _But_, I'm going to restrict you to office duty for another month. No running into dark alleys chasing bad guys with guns. I want to see you back in a month." He turned to Eames. "Let me know if anything concerns you. All kidding aside, agent, you're doing well and I don't want to see any more setbacks. I want you to continue to heal. Do we have a deal?"

Eames looked at Goren, who hesitated before he finally nodded. "Okay," he muttered.

The doctor wrote on a prescription pad, tore off the top sheet and handed it to Goren. "Here's a script for pain medicine. Do your best to take it easy, okay? I want to know if this doesn't help the pain. And no handling a gun while you're taking this stuff. Call me if you have any concerns."

"Thank you," Eames said.

With a smile, he patted her shoulder and left the room. She didn't move from where she stood, watching Goren to see what he would do. Part of her was afraid she'd overstepped her boundaries with him. He slid off the exam table, pulled on his shirt and hesitated. Then, with no warning, he turned, pulled her against him and kissed her. Just as suddenly, he released her and left the room. Confused, she followed him, not saying anything until they approached the car.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

He paused before answering, "Not really."

"Then what?"

"I'm not sure."

"You got the okay to go back to work."

"I also have a spy living in my midst."

She couldn't interpret his tone, so she didn't know if he was teasing or if he was upset."I'm not a spy. He just wants to know if anything concerning happens, and he knows you're not going to call him."

"Do you think maybe there's a reason for that?"

"I know the reason. You're stubborn and you don't like doctors or hospitals."

"So maybe you can respect that."

She paused to reign in her anger so she didn't lash out at him. Right now, he wasn't the patient, sweet-natured man she knew. Pain and frustration made him grouchy and irritable, and she knew that wasn't his fault. He wasn't being his normal self at the moment. But she had to let him know she was unhappy with him without raising his anger even more, and she knew just the way to do it. "Do you want me to go back to New York?"

He turned suddenly. "Is that...what you want?"

It was funny the things that caused his confidence to falter. "Not really, but I will if you would rather I not be around to spy on you."

"I...didn't say that."

"Then be honest with me. What do you want?"

He leaned back against the car and looked at her. This time, she had no problem reading what was in his eyes. "I want...you," he replied honestly. "That's all. Just you. I want to...be with you."

She felt the flush creep up her neck and color her face. He saw it, too, and he smiled. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her waist and drew her closer. She couldn't find the will to step away, and when he kissed her, she went weak at the knees. That hadn't happened to her...since Joe, and her eyes unexpectedly filled with sudden tears. She didn't look away fast enough to hide them from him. "What's wrong?" he asked, worried.

She shook her head, gently touching his lips with her fingertips. Then she hurried around the car and got in behind the wheel. Thoroughly confused and more than a little worried, he climbed into the passenger seat. "What did I do now?" he demanded, using aggression to hide his concern.

She shook her head again, not yet ready to answer him. She pulled away from the curb, struggling to keep her eyes from blurring and interfering with her ability to see. She didn't quite know how to process what had just happened and she needed time.

In the time it took to drive back to his apartment, he had run the gamut of emotions twice, and when he got out of the car, he was simply confused, and very worried. He was convinced he had screwed up, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what he had done. He was swinging wildly between anger and frustration, with a side trip or two to visit doubt and self-recrimination. He was intimately familiar with each of them.

When the front door opened, Logan looked up from the magazine he was reading, ready to ask how the appointment had gone. One look at Goren's expression told him something wasn't right and he knew it was in his best interest to make himself scarce. "There's gotta be a movie I haven't seen yet. You kids...work it out, and I'll be home for dinner."

Neither Goren nor Eames said anything as he grabbed his jacket and left.

Goren was restless and agitated. He paced around the living room, but it only made him worse. Eames watched him for a little while before she spoke up. "Bobby," she said softly.

He stopped when he heard her voice, listening, but he didn't turn toward her. She approached him, reaching out to place a hand on his back. "You didn't do anything wrong," she said softly, moving her hand over his back.

He wasn't convinced. "You're upset."

"Not because of anything you did or didn't do."

"Then...why...?"

She stepped around to stand in front of him. "I was overwhelmed, that's all."

"Overwhelmed...by what?"

She wasn't sure she was ready to tell him, to offer him the chance to have that much power over her. He sensed her hesitation and he stepped back, away from her, hurt that she wasn't ready to trust him with a deeper part of herself. If he had remained remote and withdrawn, then he would not have had any grounds to be upset, but he hadn't. He'd worked hard to open himself to her, and he was deeply hurt that she didn't have enough love or respect to do the same. But he wasn't going to push it. He had a lot of energy to burn, but suddenly, he didn't have the energy to fight with her. He turned away and retreated down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door and shutting her out.

He wasn't going to send her away, but he prepared himself for the possibility that she would return to New York. If she did, he wasn't going to go after her. He would leave her alone this time until his job in Washington was done. If she left, he knew it would be for good until he returned to New York. Then, if there was anything left between them, he would see what he could salvage.

He grabbed his medicine bottle from the dresser, swallowed a pill with the water he had from the night before. He paced until the medicine kicked in, and then he stretched out on the bed, and he slept.

* * *

><p>When Logan returned to the apartment, he was surprised to find Eames on the couch, watching an old movie and eating ice cream. He stood just inside the doorway, not sure what to make of it. After a minute, she looked over at him. "Well? Are you coming in or not?"<p>

"I'm not sure," he answered.

"Get over here and sit with me."

He hesitated for a moment longer before he did as she ordered. Sitting beside her, he asked, "Uhm, where's Bobby?"

"In his room."

"Is everything okay?"

She didn't answer him. Turning her attention back to the movie, she continued to eat her ice cream. He watched her, noting that she was eating rocky road directly out of the carton. That couldn't be a good sign. "Alex?"

"What?"

"Are you and Bobby okay?"

"Why don't you ask him that?"

"Uh, what did he do?"

"Why do you both automatically assume he did something?"

"Because that's usually the way these things play out. He does something stupid, you get upset, that makes him upset, he goes into hiding, you stew for awhile, you both end up yelling at each other and then you make up. So what did he do?"

With an audible sniff, she jabbed the spoon into the ice cream and set the carton on the coffee table. "It wasn't him this time. It was me."

"You? Really?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

She sat back and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "I don't know what to do..."

"About?"

"Him. Me. I don't know. About us."

He had no idea what she was talking about. "What happened?"

"He kissed me," she said by way of explanation.

He waited for more, but when she didn't elaborate, he said, "What a monster."

Unexpectedly, she laughed. "No...it wasn't him or what he did. It was...how I responded."

"Meaning?"

"My God, Mike...he...he took my breath away, and I...I..."

When she trailed off and said no more, he said, "The bastard...want me to kick his ass?"

She shoved his shoulder. "I'm serious."

"I'm sorry, Alex. I don't see the problem."

"The problem is...that I...I reacted...and what happened...well...that hasn't happened to me...not since Joe..."

She trailed off again and understanding dawned. He was quiet as he considered what to say. "What did he say about it?"

"I didn't tell him."

"Why not?"

"Mike, I just...I don't know how comfortable I am with him knowing what he can do to me."

He gave that some thought, weighing what she felt against what he knew about his friend. "Maybe so, but this is Bobby we're talking about, not some random asshole. What do you really think he'd do with it?"

"That's just it...I don't know."

"Yeah, you do."

She sat there in silence. He reached out and grabbed the ice cream container from the table. She got up and, leaving him there with the ice cream as he flipped through the channels, she walked down the hall to Goren's room.

Quietly, she slipped into the dark room and stood just inside the door, listening in the dark. The only sound was his deep, steady breathing. He was sleeping. She stayed where she was for a long time before forcing herself to approach the bed. Reaching out, she lightly stroked his hair.

He stirred. Then, he moved, reaching out to grasp her arm and pull her down on top of him. She resisted, only because she didn't want to hurt his chest. He gave a sharp tug and she fell into strong arms, her mouth claimed by his. She uttered a soft sob and he withdrew, but he didn't release her. Instead, he nuzzled her cheek and whispered, "What's wrong?"

His voice was soft and full of concern. That was the man she fell in love with. She shifted, bringing her mouth back to his. He let her kisses consume him for several long minutes before he tried again. "Alex, please..."

He let out a soft groan when her hands began to roam over his body. He responded to a touch that quickly became bolder, more demanding, and for a time, she made him forget that anything was wrong.

* * *

><p>Lightly, he stroked her bare back, from her shoulder to her waist, then across from hip to hip. She wriggled against him, snuggling deeper in his embrace. She kissed his neck, and he groaned, shifting to seek a kiss. She nestled against him again, and he softly asked, "Are you ready to talk to me?"<p>

"Suppose I'm not?"

"Then I'll keep trying until you are."

She smiled and placed a kiss on his chest. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Then tell me what happened."

She slid her leg over his and draped her arm over his midsection, stroking his side with her fingertips as she settled her head on his shoulder. "I...didn't expect it," she said softly.

"What didn't you expect?"

"I didn't expect..._you_..."

He waited, and when she didn't elaborate, he asked, "Me? Alex, if I did something wrong, tell me."

Chewing her lower lip, she shook her head adamantly, scraping her nails along his side. He shifted, swallowing a groan. "I...I don't understand."

"I know."

"So...explain...please..."

"Promise me...you won't hold it against me..."

"I promise."

She drew in a deep breath, expelling it slowly. Her breath caressed his chest and he lightly scratched her back. "You are so...so sweet," she whispered.

"Is that a problem?"

"No."

"Then...what?"

She brushed her lips over his chest and stroked his stomach for a minute before she said, "That kiss...this afternoon, by the car...I wasn't expecting it, so I wasn't...prepared for it. Bobby, you took my breath away, and you...you made me...go weak in the knees."

"I did?"

There was no arrogance in his tone. He seemed genuinely surprised. She nodded. "You did."

He was quiet as he continued to caress her back, and he considered what she said. "And that...Is that a problem?" he asked at last.

"For me...yes, it is."

"Why?"

"Because no one has done that to me since Joe," she blurted out, and in that rushed explanation, he understood.

He was quiet, and she could feel him withdrawing from her. Hot tears stung her eyes, spilling over to roll onto his chest. He felt them, and he gently wiped them from her face. "Do you want me to apologize?" he whispered, not sure what to do.

She considered his offer. What exactly did she want from him? She shook her head. "No."

"Then...what? I, uhm, I would tell you I won't ever do it again, but I can't make that kind of promise. It's not a promise I can keep, never kissing you again. And I have no control over how you respond..."

She placed her hand lightly over his mouth to silence him and she gave it some more thought. "Would you...please...do it again?"

He hesitated, considering her tone, and then he shifted, gently turning her onto her back, and he did exactly as she asked...and more.

* * *

><p>Saturday afternoon, Goren dozed lightly on the couch while Eames and Logan were out grocery shopping. He woke when his phone rang. Without opening his eyes, he felt around for it. When his hand landed on it, he grabbed it and flipped it open. "Goren," he muttered into it.<p>

"Agent Goren, this is Captain Gerrold."

Opening his eyes, Goren sat up and scrubbed his face with his right hand. "What can I do for you, captain?"

"I would like to stop by to see you, if it's convenient."

"Stop by...my apartment?"

"If you don't mind."

"And if I do?"

"Would you rather come back to the squad room to talk to me?"

"Uhm, no, not really."

"I figured as much, which is why I would like to stop by to see you."

"Uh, when?"

"How is three o'clock?"

Goren hesitated. "I suppose," he said finally.

"Thank you. I'll see you then."

Goren snapped his phone shut. Gerrold would have his address from the investigation his officers had launched into his private life when they had him under surveillance. He flipped open the phone again and texted Eames. _Will you be home soon?_

After a few minutes, she answered, _Yes. We're at the checkout now. Why?_

_Gonna have a visitor around 3._

_Oh? Who?_

_Captain Gerrold._

Another few minutes passed. _Why?_

_I don't know._

_We'll be home shortly._

He leaned back and propped his feet up on the coffee table. What possible reason could Gerrold have for wanting to see him? If there was another problem with MPD, Turner was going to have a stroke. Why couldn't they just let well enough alone and leave him in peace?

He got up and went into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. _Damn_.


	34. Close Encounters

Eames and Logan arrived home around two-thirty. Goren helped them bring in the groceries. As he reached up to place a few cans on a top shelf of the narrow pantry, Eames sidled up to him and slipped her arm around his waist, hooking her thumb in his belt loop. He looked down at her, settling his arm around her shoulders. "What?" he asked, his expression tender.

She stretched up toward him, and he leaned down to meet her halfway. She slid her palm along his cheek as she kissed him. When she withdrew from the kiss, she asked, "Any idea what Gerrold wants?"

"Nope. Not a clue."

She turned him loose and he grabbed two boxes of macaroni to put away. She turned her attention to the coffee pot and asked, "Is he coming alone?"

"He didn't say."

"Did you call Turner?"

"No. I'm not going to bother him on the weekend unless I have to."

She turned from the coffee pot as it began to brew. "Bobby, you're supposed to go back to work Monday..."

"And I will. Gerrold is no threat to me."

"I don't know," she said. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I," said Logan, who closed the freezer once he'd put away the last frozen pizza. "It wasn't one of your brighter moves, agreeing to let him meet you here."

Goren looked at the time. "It's my call," he retorted, growing irritated at both of them.

Eames reached out and rested her hand on his arm. "I don't want to see you hurt any more," she explained.

Logan tried to suppress a grin. "Yeah, it puts a crimp in her love life."

She made a move toward him and he jumped back from her, banging his head on a cabinet door he forgot to close. "Ow!"

Goren laughed, his irritation forgotten. "Serves you right," he said as Logan closed the door, rubbing the back of his head.

The doorbell rang, and Goren took a moment to look at Eames, who was genuinely concerned. He gave her a kiss. "It'll be fine," he promised.

Eames and Logan followed Goren to the door, standing by as he opened it. He tensed immediately when he saw Murphy standing behind his captain. Gerrold made a reassuring gesture when he saw Goren's reaction. "It's okay, Agent Goren. We'll just take five minutes of your time and then we'll be on our way. You don't even have to let us in."

Goren remained on edge, looking back and forth between them as he stepped into the hall. Logan joined him as Eames moved into the doorway.

Gerrold had positioned himself between Murphy and the door, so that Murphy was behind him, out of his direct line of vision. He continued to talk. "I'm glad your friends are here. I was hoping they would be."

Goren arched an eyebrow, suspicious. "Why?"

Gerrold looked at Murphy, who had taken an aggressive pose, hands bunched into fists, torso inclined forward. The captain frowned at him. "Stand down, Murphy," he growled. "I know I made myself abundantly clear. You have one reason for being here. Now, say your piece."

Murphy took a step backwards, though he still looked ready to fight. He glared at the three New York detectives. His voice was tight as he focused on Logan and Eames and said, "I may have been out of line with my investigation of Goren. In my, uhm, zeal to find the truth, it seems that I violated your privacy. For that, and _only _for that, I apologize." He glared at Goren. "But you—I still believe you belong in prison."

Logan took a step toward him, stopping only when Goren grabbed his arm. Murphy was equally ready to rumble, but Gerrold remained in the way. Murphy glared at Goren and Logan, then he turned a disapproving eye toward Eames. "Your poor choice of companions makes me question your judgment, lady," he said.

It was Goren's turn to move a step forward and Eames who stopped him. Every muscle in his body was taut; his left hand was balled into a fist. Gerrold knew he was going to lose control of the situation if he didn't do something. Bringing Goren and Murphy together was like holding a lit match to dynamite. He motioned toward the elevator with his right hand. "Wait for me in the car," he told Murphy.

Murphy made no effort to hide his contempt, but he did as his captain ordered. Once he was gone, the tension in the air dissipated, but Goren did not relax. Gerrold held out an envelope to Goren, who took it. "Rest assured, I am dealing with Murphy, just as I promised. The department took care of your medical bills. If there is anything else I can do, please let me know."

Goren motioned in the direction Murphy had gone. "Keep him away from me—and them."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about him any more."

Gerrold extended his hand, and Goren took it. Tightening his grip, Goren leaned in, crowding Gerrold's personal space, which put both Logan and Eames on edge. His voice low, Goren said, "I'm a patient man, captain, but I have taken all I am going to take from Murphy. I don't know what his problem is with me, but if he lays another hand on me, or harasses Eames or Logan, there's going to be hell to pay...for him, for you and for your department. Am I making myself clear?"

Goren was an intimidating man when he wanted to be, and Gerrold was not immune to him. With a nod, trying not to let his discomfort show, the captain withdrew his hand from Goren's grasp. "You got the apology you wanted. Don't worry about Murphy. I will handle him," he repeated.

"See that you do," Goren replied.

Gerrold back up a couple of steps before he gave Goren a nod, glanced at Eames and Logan, then turned and walked away.

Logan ran his hand over his hair. "_That_ was an apology?"

Goren was still tense. "That was Gerrold proving he can control Murphy. He lost face when Murphy hurt me. This was his way of getting it back."

"Way to pull the rug out from under him. What the hell got into you?"

"I'm fed up with Murphy. Either Gerrold gets him on a short leash, or they suffer the consequences."

"What consequences?" Eames asked.

He looked at her, but said nothing as he walked past her into the apartment. She didn't like the look he gave her. She followed him. "Bobby...Murphy did apologize. Kind of."

"Yeah, kind of. Whatever it was, it's as much of an apology as you're going to get."

"You're the one who deserves the apology," Logan said.

"All I asked for was an apology for you and Alex. I'm being generous letting him get away with whatever that was he just offered."

Logan snorted. "You should have let me mop the floor with him," he complained. "The floor could use a good mopping."

"My neighbors have kids," Goren replied as he sat on the couch and opened the envelope Gerrold had given him. Inside it, he found a brief letter of apology issued by Murphy and the Metropolitan Police Department, along with a compensation check for 'damages caused by pain and suffering.' He tossed the letter and the check onto the table with the envelope, not quite sure what to make of it.

Logan picked up the letter, read it and passed it to Eames. He looked at the check. "Hmpf. That was quick. Makes me wonder if they aren't used to fixing Murphy's messes, which begs the question: how long are they gonna put up with it?"

Goren shrugged. "It's not our problem."

"Think your pain and suffering is worth ten grand?"

He shrugged again. "I never figured out how to put a price on pain and suffering."

"What are you gonna do with it?" Logan asked.

Goren hesitated, giving it some thought, then said, "Give me a pen."

Logan pulled a pen from his pocket and held it out, along with the check. Goren took them, wrote on the back of the check and folded it in half. He handed it to Eames. She frowned, confused. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Take it to the bank, cash it, and pay off your sister's car. Whatever you have left, use it to buy Nate a birthday present."

"Bobby..."

"Please, don't argue with me. Just...please..."

She looked at the check, and she knew he wasn't going to let her refuse it. She didn't want to get into another argument with him, especially over such a sweet, generous gesture. She tapped the folded check against her hand, thinking, and he watched her, ready to argue if she tried to hand it back to him.

Logan watched them, not knowing what to say or do. He sensed the tension in Goren, but he couldn't read Eames. Finally, she crossed the room, opened her purse and tucked the check into her wallet. She returned to the couch and sat beside Goren, turning to face him. Leaning forward, she gave him a soft kiss and said, "Thank you, but I will accept it only on two conditions."

He was curious. "What conditions?"

"First, I want you to go shopping with me for Nate's birthday present and if you're feeling up to the drive, come home with me for his birthday party at my sister's."

He nodded. "Okay. What's your second condition?"

Logan leaned back against the wall by the kitchen, watching them. He folded his arms across his chest and waited. He knew that, whatever Eames' conditions were, Goren was not going to let her refuse to take the check. She had to know it as well, so he was interested in what her final condition was and how Goren was going to react to it.

Eames took Goren's hand in hers and said, "When your assignment here is done and you come back home...I want you to move in with me."

Goren looked at her as though he'd heard her wrong. "Wh-What?"

"Move in with me. All your stuff is already there. The only thing missing is you."

He tried to say something, but the words escaped him. Closing his mouth, he sat there silently. Eames watched him, waiting for him to respond.

Logan watched them both, at first afraid he was intruding on a moment. Then he realized that, for some unfathomable reason, Eames wanted him there. Maybe she thought it would go better if Goren had him there for support, though he couldn't imagine why she would think that. Goren had no reservations about his behavior when Logan was around.

Logan watched his friend, concerned. He had seen Goren work his way through many emotions, but he couldn't quite place the look he saw on his face at the moment. It took more than a few minutes before he realized what he was seeing and why it was new to him. Never before had he seen Goren panic.

Like Logan, Eames didn't know what to make of Goren's reaction. "Exactly where were you planning to live when you came back to New York?"

"Ah, I...Uhm, I really haven't given it any thought."

_Typical Bobby, _she mused, _just flying along by the seat of his pants._ For all his caution about some things, he could be so impulsive about others. The state of his own welfare wasn't usually something about which he obsessed. "Well, I have," she assured him. "I've given this a lot of thought, and I feel right about it."

He slipped his hand from hers and got up. Agitated, he began to pace, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh, I don't get it. A few weeks ago, you couldn't admit that you loved me. Now you want me to move in with you. I don't, uh, I mean...what changed?"

She understood how spur-of-the-moment it must seem to him, but she decided to push it. "Bobby, you have been pushing hard for this relationship. Where did you think it was going?"

"I...I haven't, uh, not really, I mean..."

"Very eloquent," Logan said as he stepped away from the wall against which he'd been leaning. He understood that Eames wanted him there, but they had both totally forgotten that he was. He wasn't sure this was something with which he could help, nor was he certain that he should try. They had to work through this together, on their own, and he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, as he always did when a relationship issue cropped up between those two. He'd intervened for Goren more than once, and he liked to think that he'd helped, but this was one time he felt he needed to step back and give them their space. They needed to work this one out on their own.

As he crossed the room, Logan continued, "As stimulating and entertaining as this lack of coherent conversation is, I don't think I'll stick around for the punch line. You're on your own with this. Take your time and work it out. But do me a favor and remember—some puzzles can't be put back together. As much as I like puzzles, this is one time I really don't want to pick up the pieces. Don't make any rash decisions. This is important, so get it right, okay? When the dust settles, call me. I'll be at Alan's."

He grabbed his jacket and left before either of them had a chance to talk him out of it. Goren had stopped his pacing to listen to Logan, and now he resumed his journey around the living room.

Eames watched him, anxious about what was going on in his head. She had no regrets about her decision, and she didn't understand his reaction. She'd offered him a roof over his head, no strings attached, and he acted like she'd asked him to kill the Pope.

"Suppose you couldn't find a place right away when you got home?" she asked.

He ran his hand over the back of his head and his neck, growing increasingly agitated. "I could find a couch. Mike's probably, or maybe with Lewis..."

"Or me?"

"Uhm...maybe."

"My couch or my bed?"

He stopped and finally looked at her. "That would be up to you," he said.

"Well, then, there's no real reason for you to say no, is there?"

"You...you don't understand," he said. "I haven't shared my living space with someone else since I was in the army. I...I'm not sure I know how to share the same home with another person."

"So you learn. We both learn. I know how much you value your own space, and I've already thought about that. I have a three bedroom home. One of the extra bedrooms is an exercise room. The other one is yours. Call it a study. Whatever. It's your space."

Obviously, she _had_ given it a lot of thought. He was surprised she had even considered sharing her home with him. Some days she had trouble putting up with him at work. Those days she was happy to go home and get away from him. If they went home to the same place, there would be no getting away from each other. "And when you're fed up with me?"

She shrugged. "I can spend the night at my dad's or my sister's. When you're fed up with me, you can crash with Mike or Lewis. We can make it work, Bobby, if we want it to work."

He looked at her intently, and she didn't look away. "Alex, I love you, but I...I'm a lot to put up with. I-I don't want to lose you."

"Why do you think you would?"

"I...I," he looked at the floor. "I just...I know how things work for me. I didn't think it through, when I fell in love with you, and when this fails..."

"Whoa, hold on a minute. _When_ it fails? Why would you go into this expecting to fail?"

"How can you go into it expecting to succeed?"

She made a noise of frustration. "Bobby, it _won't_ fail."

"You don't know that. A couple of weeks ago, you couldn't even tell me you loved me."

"I admit, I was hesitant. But I figured it out, and I know that it won't fail."

"How?"

She approached him, stopping in front of him and placing her hands flat against his chest. "Because I won't let it," she said firmly, with certainty. "I'm done playing this game. I'm not getting any younger and I'm tired of the whole dating mess. Ever since Joe died, I've been looking for the same unconditional love I got from him. I never found it, until now, and I'm not going to give it up. I'm not going to give _you_ up. So you'd better get used to having me around."

He stared at her, not knowing what to say. He couldn't figure out what had changed. He was the same man; she was the same woman. How did she go from not loving him to being unwilling to live without him in just a few short weeks? After a couple of minutes of letting her words roll about in his head, he said, "I...I _am_ used to having you around, and I like it."

"Okay, so then what's the problem?"

Silence hung heavily between them, supercharged with emotion, and neither of them moved, afraid to disturb the tenuous equilibrium. They sat in the heavy air, looking at each other, knowing something important hung in the balance.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, someone moved, and the delicacy of the moment was shattered, but he didn't care. He had to move them forward. "The problem...which one? There are so many." She watched as he moved away from her and continued to pace. He waved his hand, agitated. "November," he said. "Let's start with November."

"What about it?" she asked around the constriction in her throat. His six-month exile from the job began in November.

"November...that was the last time I talked to my brother. Do you know what the last thing I said to him was?"

"Bobby..."

"I told him if he was on a bridge getting ready to jump, I'd listen for the splash."

She bit her lip to help hold her emotions in check. "Bobby..."

He wouldn't let her interrupt. "I didn't talk to him again, and now he's gone. He was my brother, and I turned my back on him, not just once. Many times. Then there's my mother...the woman who gave me birth and so royally screwed up my life...do you know how she spent the end of her life? She cried, because _I_ made her cry. Take a look, Alex. Take a good hard look before you make that fatal plunge. Remember what you had with Joe? Remember what normal felt like? If you're looking for that again, then you're barking up the wrong tree. Hell, you're in the wrong damn forest."

Eames was annoyed. "I don't get you. First, you jump through hoops to convince me that you love me, and now you're arguing with me to convince me you're all wrong for me. Would you make up your damn mind?"

His pacing settled a little and he seemed a bit less agitated. He thought for a few minutes before he said, "There are some things that I do very well. Sex, for instance. I know you like the sex, but I just...I'm not sure that you like _me_ better than it. You...You're a smart woman, and you know me. No woman has ever gotten as close to me as you are. If you can't find enough reason to love me, well...no one else ever will."

"Bobby...I _do_ love you. Dammit, why can't you see what I see?" she implored. "Why do you have to question everything? Can't you just accept that I love you?"

Deeply agitated, he continued to pace, and it took a few minutes for her to fully understand what was driving him. It wasn't love or desire. It wasn't desperation or anger. It was fear. Everything was right there, out in the open, and she had the power, should she choose to wield it, to destroy him. He had never been in that situation before, and that had him deeply unsettled. Always, he had been in control of his own destiny. Now, for the first time in his life, that was in the hands of another person, and he didn't like it. But there was nothing he could do about it.


	35. Letting Go

Her question should have been a simple one—_Can't you just accept that I love you?_—but it wasn't. With him, there was no such thing as a simple question or a simple answer. When he didn't respond, she began to get annoyed. "Is that really what you think?" she demanded. "You think I'm with you for the sex?"

"Sometimes, I do, yes."

She placed her hands on her hips and jutted out her jaw in defiance. "See there, Mr. Know-It-All, you don't know everything. Your assessment is only half right."

He had no idea what she was doing. Was she trying to antagonize him? He didn't know exactly how to respond. "H-Half right?" His irritation on the rise, he challenged, "Which half, Eames? The half that makes the physical connection? The half that's the easiest to understand because it's right out there, always ready to go?"

He advanced on her suddenly, reaching out to cup her breast in the palm of his hand. Caught by surprise, she reacted by stepping back, her expression one of apprehension. He stopped his advance, head tipped to the side, and looked at her, his expression a combination of anger and hurt. "What makes you think you're ready to live with me, Eames? How can you even consider it, if you're afraid of me, if you don't trust me to control myself, to know exactly what I'm doing?"

Anger replaced her apprehension and she lashed out just as suddenly as he had. "Don't you dare play your mind games with me, Goren!" she growled, furious. "Be man enough to admit your reasons for saying no, but don't you dare turn them back on me."

He stood there as she vented, taking the full brunt of her anger without flinching. It took a minute before she caught herself. In silence, she stood there, looking at him. "You son of a bitch," she snapped. "What...why..." She wrapped her arms around her stomach to stop them from shaking and to prevent herself from lashing out and hurting him—although at the moment, that was exactly what she wanted to do most. "Why the hell do you do this?"

"Because I can," he said, pulling back his aggression a few notches. "Because I have to remind you—and myself—of who and what I am. It's nice to spend some time living under the illusion of what might be a normal life, but that kind of life...it just, it isn't for me. Sometimes...I forget myself, and I get lost in the dreamworld of what could be. But I always come back to what is, and the landing is rough. But...here I am, again."

His words deeply troubled her, and she forgot her anger. "What are you talking about?"

He continued his agitated pacing, not letting her get close, and she was getting mad again, tired of chasing him around the room. "Would you hold still for ten seconds!" she demanded.

"Alex, you don't get it!"

"So explain it to me—and then give me the chance to make my own goddam decision!"

He paused just long enough for her to finally get in front of him and grab his shirt in both fists. She shoved him against the wall. "There. Now talk. Explain. Make me understand."

He looked down at her, letting his sad, dark eyes slowly roam over the features of her face. "You want an idea of the kind of man I really am?"

"You won't surprise me," she promised.

"Don't bet on that."

He grabbed her and pulled her against his body, kissing her roughly. His hands moved over her body, pushing aside the clothing that got in his way. His weren't the fumblings of a boy desperate for sex. They were the controlled explorations of an experienced man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

She was stunned. For about thirty seconds, she struggled, unwilling to relinquish control and give him the upper hand. But he didn't hesitate, didn't give in, and she turned to jelly. What began as rough play to prove a point quickly transformed into something entirely different from what he had intended. He set out to prove to her that he wasn't the man she thought he was, but in doing so, in giving in to his needs and desires, in succumbing to the drive that overwhelmed him and stripped him of his own control, he proved that he wasn't the man _he_ thought he was.

* * *

><p>He came around slowly, opening his eyes to a dark room. But which room? He couldn't remember anything but her. Dear God, what had just happened? "A-Alex?" he whispered.<p>

He heard movement nearby and he shifted in that direction. There was floor beneath him, carpeted floor. They were in the living room. He reached out and touched her, expecting her to recoil in fear and horror. Instead, she moved closer, pulling him against her and kissing him hard. He relaxed in her arms, and her assault eased. He responded to the gentle pressure she exerted against his body with a soft groan. His touch was also gentle. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered against her mouth when she gave him a minute.

She came to a full stop. "What are you sorry for?" she asked.

"I...I lost control," he explained. "That's never happened before. I've never been out of control with a woman. I...Did I hurt you?"

She stroked his hair and the side of his face. "Hurt me? Of course not. Don't you understand? That was exactly what I wanted from you."

"But...what? Why?"

"I wanted you to lose control, to see what you would do."

He looked at her with confusion. "But...why? What if I'd hurt you?"

"I knew you wouldn't."

"Alex, _I_ didn't know I wouldn't hurt you."

"But I did. The difference between us is that I trust you. You never learned to trust yourself. I wanted you to let go completely, to respond to me without thinking about it and controlling it, but you never would. I knew I would have to get you mad enough to let go and just react to me, but until now, I was never able to do that. You always hold back. Tonight, you finally gave me exactly what I wanted."

"You live dangerously," he muttered, irritated.

She smiled. "I'm a cop. It's what I do."

He studied her intently. "Are you sure you want me to move in with you?"

"Absolutely."

He had intended to show her exactly the kind of monster she had fallen in love with, but in doing so, he had proven to them both that he wasn't the monster he thought he was.

"And...you still love me?"

"With all my heart."

He shook his head slowly. She rolled and draped her torso on his chest, gently kissing his chin. "Do you have to understand everything?"

"You don't think it's important to understand what's going on between us?"

"Not everything. Bobby, I don't understand how that brilliant, wonderful mind of yours works and I never will. I don't understand why you do half the things you do. But it doesn't keep me from loving you. You confuse me and frustrate me and make me angry. But you also thrill me and challenge me and make me fall in love with you all over again every day."

He touched her face, sliding his fingers along her cheek. "What changed?" he whispered. "I have to know what changed."

"I did, I guess." She turned her head and kissed his fingers. "For so long I have been as closed off as you are, unwilling to let anyone in. I think that for a long time, I forgot how to let anyone in. Then, you came along, and little by little, you reminded me of what it's like to feel...wanted. Little by little, you found your way past my defenses, and I found my way past yours. You gave in first, and I give you credit for that. I know what a big leap it was for you to finally admit that you loved me. I wasn't willing to do the same, even though I felt it. And then, I was faced with the possibility of losing you, and I remembered everything I went through when I lost Joe. That's when I finally realized that I loved you, and I knew I had to let you know before it was too late. That was what changed. I didn't want to lose another man I loved. I guess I thought that maybe if you knew how I felt, then everything would turn out okay."

"It did."

She ran her fingers over the healing wound in his side. When his muscles tensed, pain shot through his chest from his broken rib and he made a soft noise of pain. She kissed him. "Do you understand now?"

"I, uh, I do."

"And?"

He stroked her hair and her back, and he didn't answer for a long time. She also remained silent, patiently waiting. At least he wasn't wandering around the room. Finally, he said, "I think I owe it to us both to give it a chance, to give _us_ a chance."

"And that means...?"

"It means if you think you can put up with me, I'll do what you want."

"It isn't just what I want. It isn't just me. This is us now, and you have to get used to think about you and me in terms of us."

"That's gonna take time."

He felt her head bob in a nod, and she said, "You're willing to give it a chance?"

"If you are."

"I already told you I was."

"Okay, then. Yes, I'm willing to give it—to give us—a chance."

"And what about that crap about expecting it to fail?"

She felt the tension rise in him, and she knew it was a real fear for him, not something that he considered crap. He shifted beneath her, suddenly agitated. She gently rubbed his chest, and the contact calmed him enough to focus his thoughts. Quietly, he said, "I...uhm, faith...faith is something I have always struggled with. So is trust. It takes a lot to earn my trust, but you know that because you put in the effort. But faith...that's something that no one has ever earned. I can give this a try, Alex, but I can't promise instant optimism. I can promise an honest effort, a full effort. I can promise you that I will do whatever I can do to make it succeed. But I can't believe in it. Not yet. That doesn't mean I don't want to or I won't try. It doesn't mean that it won't evolve. It just means that right now I don't have it in me to believe in...well, anything, including whatever _we_ are. But I'll work on it. I promise you that."

She was disappointed that he didn't have faith in her, in them, but she understood. His life had never been one that lent itself to the development and sustenance of any kind of faith. "I can't ask for more than that."

He began to shift away from her, preparing to get up from the floor. She slid closer, preventing him from getting up. "One more thing," she said.

He tensed with apprehension. "What's that?" he asked, trying not to feel dread.

"What happened tonight...can we not lose that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you trusted me enough to finally let go, to give me everything you had to give. You know I can handle it. I don't want you to withdraw again and go back into hiding."

"That wasn't trust. It was anger, desperation. I intended to show you exactly what kind of bastard I really am."

"It didn't work because you just aren't what you thought you were. And ultimately, it _was_ trust, whether you choose to believe it or not."

"I'll work on it."

Again she nodded because she knew that was as good as it was going to get. An honest effort was as much as he could give, and she knew he was afraid of unleashing himself on her. But she also knew how to goad him into it, and if she had to, she would. When she wanted all he had to give, she knew exactly how to get it.

She slipped away from him so he could get up and felt around for her clothes. By the time he turned on the light, she had her shirt on, and he was dressed from the waist down. He went into the kitchen, returning with a beer, and he picked up his phone while she pulled on her pants. He called Logan, giving him the all clear to come home, refusing to give him details over the phone. He wasn't sure what details he was going to give because he wasn't completely sure of exactly what had happened.

Eames sat beside him and he slid his arm around her. She snuggled into his side. He handed her the remote and let her channel surf while he finished his beer and chased random thoughts inside his head.

As he began to relax, she lightly stroked his chest and ran her fingers over his healing injury. He leaned forward and kissed her, slow and deep. He lowered her back onto the couch, tangling tongues with her as he slid his hand beneath her shirt. She groaned into his mouth and he whispered, "I love you."

He didn't give her a chance to reply, taking his time and loving her tenderly. She was amazed by the amount of emotion he was able to infuse into his lovemaking. She had not felt so loved, so cherished, in many years.

Stretched out on the couch, he guided her into a comfortable position on top of him. She began to protest because of his rib injury, but he assured her she was not hurting him where she was. She finally relented and let him have his way, relaxing as she flipped through the channels.

* * *

><p>When Logan got home, Goren was sleeping. He hung up his jacket and looked at the couple on the sofa. Eames gave him a smile. "You guys okay?" he asked.<p>

She nodded. "We're okay."

"Good. You brought him to his senses?"

"I guess so. He's agreed to give it a try."

"Glad to hear it. I'd have to get a new couch."

"Why's that?"

Before Logan could answer, Goren said, "It's lumpy in all the wrong places and about six inches too short."

"I have a bed and I live alone," Logan retorted. "I don't have to sleep on my couch so it doesn't matter how long it is...or how lumpy."

"Which is why we usually end up at my place after a night out. My couch is comfortable."

"I appreciate your consideration," Logan answered with a smirk.

"Consideration? Try self-preservation. The last time I slept on your couch, my back was sore as hell for a week."

Eames enjoyed their teasing banter. Logan got a beer from the refrigerator as Eames slid off her partner so he could get up. He kissed her, muttered 'good night' and disappeared down the hall to his bedroom. Eames handed the remote to Logan, gave him a smile, and said good night as well.

Logan watched her until she was out of sight, then he softly laughed and began to channel surf.


	36. A Magnet for Crackpots

Monday morning, Goren stood in front of the mirror, tying his tie. Eames came up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist as she rested her head against his back. Releasing his tie, he placed his hands over hers. "You're making it hard to leave," he murmured.

"Glad to hear it," she replied with a smile.

Knowing he still had time, she slipped her hands free and began to unbutton his shirt. He closed his eyes as she pulled his shirt free of his pants and stroked his skin. When she began to work on his belt, he turned in her arms, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. He finished undoing his belt, then his pants, as he eased her backwards toward the bed.

* * *

><p>She smiled at him as he extricated himself from the covers in which they'd become entangled. He got out of the bed, dressed himself again and slid his tie under his collar. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, he pulled on his shoes.<p>

Reaching out, she lightly scratched his side over his healing injury. He softly groaned. "I really have to go now," he said.

"I know," she answered, but she didn't stop.

He didn't move away. "I really do," he said.

"Uh-huh," she replied, getting up onto her knees and kissing the back of his neck.

"Eames," he murmured, his voice tight.

"Yep. Got it. You've gotta go."

She eased her mouth along his neck to his ear. He trembled, but forced himself to finally move. Keyed up again, he groaned as he leaned down to kiss her. "You realize I'm going to be thinking about you all day long."

She sat back on the bed and offered an innocent smile. "You are?" she teased.

He moved his hands toward his belt, but stopped before reaching it. He bit his lip and forced himself to back away from the bed. "I'll see you tonight, if I don't combust."

She almost did him in with her soft laugh. He grabbed his suit jacket and strode to the door, stopping when he got there. Turning, he looked at her. She had burrowed herself back under the covers, still undressed, and he wanted very badly to join her again. He drew in a deep breath, igniting a fire in his side from his still-healing rib. Focusing on the pain, he found the will he needed to leave. "I'll see you tonight. I love you."

Her smile was bright. "I love you, too. Have a good day."

He grunted in reply and left the room. Smiling, she snuggled deeper into the bed and relaxed, letting herself slip into a light doze.

In the kitchen, Goren poured himself a cup of coffee and tied his tie without the benefit of a mirror. Logan looked over from the couch when he came into the living room. "Running late?"

"I wasn't. Thanks for the coffee."

"Don't mention it." He got up and walked to his friend, straightening his tie. "Got you all tied in knots, does she?"

"Kind of."

"That'll make for a fun day."

He offered up the same grunt he'd just given her and swallowed another gulp of coffee. Pressing the half-full cup into Logan's hand, he muttered a good bye, grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.

With an amused smile, Logan took a drink from the cup and went into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Goren's mind was preoccupied as he walked toward the Federal building. He was going to have to set his alarm an hour earlier if he wanted to get up and leave in time. He knew she was teasing, and he had to wonder if she knew the full extent of what that teasing did to him, even after he thought he was fully sated.<p>

When he'd lost control of himself the other night, he'd paid for it in pain. His rib still ached incessantly, but he would be able to manage the pain over the course of the day if it didn't get much worse. Maybe she kept him more active than he was ready to be, but he had no complaints. Between her and the medication, he slept deeply, mostly without dreaming. When he did dream, somehow she kept the nightmares at bay, and when he woke from a dream in the deep of the night, she never turned him away.

"Agent Goren!"

He stopped and turned toward the voice, suppressing a groan when he saw Martino crossing the plaza toward him. "I heard you were coming back today," she said as she approached. "Friday was my last day, but I didn't want to head off to Tupelo without seeing you one more time."

"What can I do for you, Martino?"

She stepped up close to him, well within his personal space. "You can go to hell," she growled.

Her right hand came forward, jarring his side. He pulled away, stepping back as his rib screamed in protest at the contact. His arm pressed into his side and she danced backwards, away from him. "I wanted to be sure you wouldn't forget me."

Turning, she walked briskly away. He watched her until she was out of sight, still holding his side. When she'd moved closer to him, he had tensed, which set off the pain in his side. When she made contact, the pain exploded and it was all he could do to hide it from her, aside from reflexively pressing his arm against his injured side.

He remained where he was for a couple of minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. It didn't. With a soft swear, he went into the building, the pain increasing with each step. In the elevator, he leaned back against the wall behind him, working to take slow breaths as deeply as he could manage.

No one noticed when he got off the elevator, and he made his way to his office without attracting attention. Dropping into his chair, he wiped the sweat from his face and softly swore. As the pain finally eased, he released the pressure of his arm against his rib. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his prescription bottle and dumped two pills into his hand. Opening a drawer in his desk, he pulled out a bottle of water, opened it and swallowed the pills. He swore again under his breath.

"Hey, partner," Decker said as he poked his head in the door. "Welcome...back...What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Goren insisted.

"You look like crap. I don't think you're ready to come back."

"I..." he stopped abruptly. He could trust Decker. "Come in and close the door."

Decker did as he asked, sitting in a chair in front of the desk. "What happened?"

Goren informed him of his encounter with Martino. Decker stared at him for a moment. "Is she crazy?"

"I think she is counting on me not reporting her."

"Why the hell would she think that?"

"Because she still thinks I'm attracted to her, even though she's angry with me for kicking her off the project."

"She's out of her mind. Let me see your side."

When Goren stood up, the pain in his side flared and his knees wobbled. Decker grabbed his arm to steady him. Goren closed his eyes for a moment, then braced himself and slipped out of his jacket. Decker scowled. "You've got blood on your shirt, Bobby."

"What?" He twisted at the waist and tugged on his shirt to see the blood. "Oh, hell."

"Open your shirt."

He undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Decker gently pushed the shirt open and examined his side. "How hard did she hit you?"

"Not hard, I don't think. My side was hurting before she hit me, so I can't be sure."

"This was no love tap, and she hit you with more than her fist. You have an incision here." He looked more closely at the shirt. "And a slice in your shirt. Hmpf. I don't think she meant it to be lethal—just something to remind you of her whenever you look at the scar."

Goren swore. "Alex is going to kill me."

"You need stitches."

"Dammit. Look, would you run me over to the hospital? I want this kept quiet."

"Yeah, sure, but you gotta tell Vic."

"I will. Can you, uh, bandage this?"

"Let me get the supplies I need. I'll be right back."

He hustled out of the office as Goren dropped into his chair. Decker returned within minutes. Kneeling beside his partner, he quickly bandaged his side. "There. We ought tell Vic where we're going. Remember how much he hates it when we disappear."

Goren buttoned his shirt but tucked his tie into a drawer in his desk. "I remember. I really don't need this."

The pain medicine was beginning to kick in and he could breathe easier. He wasn't any steadier when he stood up, but Decker was there to help him. He pulled on his jacket with Decker's help and they went to talk to Turner.

The lead agent's face lit up when the partners knocked on his door, but it quickly faded when he noticed how pale Goren looked. "You're not ready to be back here, Goren," he said.

"I was when I got here," Goren complained.

"What does that mean?"

"Decker and I are going to run over to the hospital."

"He needs a couple of stitches in his side," Decker added.

Turner was thoroughly confused. "What are you two talking about?"

"Uh, I had a little run-in with Martino on the plaza this morning. She bumped me, and she must have had a blade in her hand. I never felt it, so it had to have been small and sharp—surgically sharp."

Turner stared at him for a long minute. "Please tell me this is all a bad joke."

Decker reached out and moved Goren's coat so Turner could see the blood. Turner swore. "Well, she's gonna have a nice surprise waiting for her when she reports at Tupelo. How stupid can one person be?"

"She doesn't think I'll report her," Goren explained.

"She's bat shit crazy." He waved his hand. "Go on over to the hospital, and then go home. See how you're feeling tomorrow."

"I can come back..."

"No. You look about ready to collapse. Get going."

Decker gently tugged on Goren's arm, sensing an argument brewing. "Don't debate it. Let's go."

Reluctantly, Goren let the matter drop and he left with Decker.

* * *

><p>Eames had a damn good poker face. Even though they were playing gin, Logan couldn't read her. He hadn't figured out her tells yet, but he would. He drew a card and laid out three fives, discarding a three, which she snatched up. Laying out a five card straight, she discarded her last card and announced, "Gin!"<p>

He shook his head and laid out his remaining cards so she could tally the score. He held all face cards. "Ooh, ouch," she said with a laugh.

Before he could reply, the front door opened and Goren came into the apartment, followed by Decker, who looked cautious. Surprise turned quickly to concern for Logan and Eames when they realized something was wrong. "What happened?" Eames asked as she hurried to his side.

He waved her off, annoyed. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

She glanced at Decker, who shook his head. "Bobby..." she began.

"Not right now," he snapped.

Moving past her, he walked down the hallway to his bedroom and slammed the door. "Whoa," said Logan.

"He's in a mood," agreed Decker.

"And what put him in that mood?" Eames asked.

"Martino did. And half a dozen stitches didn't help."

"What?"

"He draws trouble like a magnet."

Eames didn't wait for an explanation. She hurried down the hall, leaving Decker to explain to Logan. She wanted to hear what happened from Goren. Letting herself into the bedroom, she closed the door and turned to face him. He had removed his jacket and his ruined shirt, and he turned toward her, his expression changing from one of irritation and anger to one of remorse. "I, uh, I'm sorry I snapped."

Her eyes shifted to the fresh bandage on his side. "What the hell?"

"It happened fast. I...It didn't hurt. I didn't even notice it until I got upstairs."

"What didn't hurt?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "M-Martino. She...wanted to, uh, to say good bye. She cut me, and I barely felt it."

"How did you not notice that someone stabbed you in the side?"

"It wasn't a stab. It was a cut, probably made with a scalpel. I, uhm, I tensed when she came close and that made my rib hurt like hell. That hurt a lot more than what she did. Alan thinks she did it so I would..." He paused, suddenly unsure. How would she react to Decker's assessment of Martino's motivation? This wasn't going to go well for him.

"So you would what?" she pressed.

"Uhm, think of her...whenever I see the scar she gave me."

Sure enough, Eames' face grew dark with anger. "What did you do about it?' she demanded.

"I...talked to Turner. He...He'll take care of it."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. He was...well..." He motioned his hand in her direction, toward her face. "About like that, too."

This wasn't his fault, but Decker had a point—Goren certainly did draw trouble like a magnet. "Why can't you be more careful? Bobby, you aren't invincible."

"I didn't expect this. I thought she was smarter than that."

"She thinks you're infatuated with her and that would make her untouchable."

"Something like that."

She approached him, stopping directly in front of him and placing her hands on his shoulders. Now that he'd lost his grip on his anger and irritation, the medication they had given him in the emergency room, much stronger than his prescription, was catching up with him. She moved closer, kissing his forehead and pressing her hands against his shoulders. He yielded to her, laying back on the bed. He stifled a yawn and looked at her from under heavy lids. "Go to sleep," she whispered as she caressed his face. "I'll fix you something to eat when you wake up."

He mumbled something, but she didn't understand what he said. Eyes closed, he rolled onto his side and he was out. She looked more closely at the fresh bandage. There was no bruising around it, so it was unlikely Martino had caused his injured rib any harm. "What is it about you that draws crackpots to you?" she asked softly.

She placed a gentle kiss on his temple and left the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I couldn't have Martino skip away into a happily ever after in Mississippi, now could I?**


	37. A Life Worth Living

Goren came out of the bedroom several hours later, groggy and aching. Decker had joined Logan and Eames for dinner, and they were just finishing. He stood at the end of the hallway and leaned against the wall, looking across the room at them.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," Logan commented.

"Do you want something to eat?" Eames asked as she started to get up.

Goren motioned for her to stay put. "I can get it," he assured her.

They watched him cross over to the kitchen. Eames looked at Logan and Decker before she got up and went into the kitchen after him.

He got down a plate and almost dropped it when his side erupted in pain. He set it down and pressed his hand against his side with a soft groan, leaning against the counter.

"Hurt?" Eames asked.

He straightened quickly and picked up the plate. She reached out and closed her hand over the plate, looking up into his face. He studied her eyes and released it. She smiled. He tried to offer a smile in return, but it came across as more of a grimace. Stretching up, she gave him a kiss, then turned toward the stove to dish out his dinner.

As she spooned gravy over the meat and rice on his plate, he stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her. She almost dropped it when he kissed her neck. "Feeling any better?" she asked.

"I'm okay. I'm just...mad at myself for leaving myself open like I did. But...nothing she's ever said or done prepared me for that."

"Sometimes people do unexpected things. You know that."

"I'm not going to spend my life expecting everyone to turn on me. I've gotten past that."

"I don't have a good answer for you, Bobby."

She turned and handed him the plate. "Thanks," he said with a small smile.

As he turned to get a fork, he said, "Lightman called me while I was in the ER."

"Oh? What did he want?"

"The same thing he's always wanted."

"To hire you?"

He nodded. "I told him I'm still not interested."

"How did he take it?"

"In stride. He wasn't surprised. But he called me a natural and offered me a couple of consulting jobs, questioning potential suspects and witnesses. I told him I would think it over. It's not a bad gig, and I like Foster. I could handle a few interrogations. What do you think?"

"You're good at it, and you enjoy it, so why not? Maybe that will keep you out of trouble."

He frowned. "I don't ask for trouble, Alex."

"I know. I'm just teasing." She touched his arm, reassuring him. "Eat your dinner."

He took his plate to the living room and sat beside Decker, who gently nudged him. "You feeling any better?"

"Some. Sorry I was so...difficult. Thanks for going with me...and for putting up with me."

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're all right. While you were sleeping, Turner called to see how you were doing. I filled him in, and he told me he talked to Tupelo."

"How did that go?"

"Considering that he was pissed as hell when he talked to them, not bad. They're charging her with felony assault of a Federal officer. She'll do time."

Goren looked at his plate, his brow furrowed. "Don't do that," Logan scolded.

"Do what?" Eames asked as she came out of the kitchen.

She handed Goren a cup of fresh coffee and a prescription bottle as Logan said, "Alan told him about Martino and he's looking remorseful."

She looked at Goren, waiting for an explanation. He set his plate on the coffee table, swallowed two pills with the coffee and handed the medicine back to her. "I'm not sorry she's going to get the appropriate punishment for what she did."

Eames relaxed a little. He had a definite soft spot for female psychopaths, she reflected, thinking of Nicole Wallace and Nelda Carlson, in particular. He had a soft spot for women in general. "Good. What are you feeling remorse for, then?"

His scowl deepened. "I..." he trailed off, searching for the right words. If he worded his explanation wrong, he was going to find himself in deep trouble with her. She knew him better than anyone, but sometimes, she took his words wrong and that was never fun for him. He had a feeling she was thinking about Nicole, and he didn't blame her, but this wasn't the same. "Martino wasn't a bad agent, but she let her passions control her rather than the other way around. That was what got her into trouble all the time. She didn't have a good handle on her, uhm, obsession. I have a feeling Greg has no idea how to handle her."

"Greg?"

"Her husband. They have an...open marriage. Neither gets upset because the other one screws around, and they both do it."

"Lovely."

He shrugged. "It works for them."

Decker grinned. "Is that something you guys would consider?"

Logan laughed. "It'd work out perfectly right here and now," he said to Decker. "I get her and you get him."

Goren laughed with them, holding his side as his rib protested. As glad as she was to see Goren laugh, despite the pain in his side, Eames was shocked by the suggestion until she realized they were teasing. "You're impossible, Logan," she said. "And you're ruining Alan."

The three men laughed again, and Goren gently pulled her down onto his lap. With a tender smile of deep affection, he whispered, "Not gonna share," and kissed her. Unexpectedly, she slid her arms around his neck, teased his lips with her tongue and deepened the kiss, which lingered.

Logan and Decker watched, glancing at each other intermittently, until she withdrew and sat back from him. With a mischievous grin, Decker asked, "Can I borrow your shower?"

Laughter erupted again among the men. Shaking her head, she looked at Decker. "I'm beginning to think you're more like Logan than I originally thought. No wonder you get along so well together."

She ran her fingers through Goren's hair. "You feeling better?"

He nodded, resting his hand against her waist. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Just sore right now."

"Well, _I_ am going to take a shower."

She gave him another kiss, slid off his lap and walked down the hall. Goren watched her walk away, hunger in his eyes.

"Go," Decker urged.

"You know she wants you to," Logan added.

Needing no further encouragement, Goren got up and went down the hall after her.

* * *

><p>Eames stayed for another ten days before she returned to New York and Major Case. Goren was back to work full time by then, and she felt comfortable leaving him in Logan and Decker's care. She took it upon herself to call him at night, once she was settled in bed. Sometimes he was home, sometimes not. The weekends she spent with him were never long enough, and she appreciated that Logan made himself scarce.<p>

The consultation work that Lightman had for Goren ended up being regular work once a week, and those days, he always called her first. Stimulated and excited by a taste of the work he loved, she could practically feel the vibration of his excitement through the phone. A job with Lightman, she concluded to herself, would not be bad for him. But it wouldn't be good for them, and that was the one thing that prevented him from giving in to the human lie detector. He would be quite the protege, and she was certain Cal Lightman mourned the loss.

* * *

><p>The two weekends before Christmas, she didn't go to Washington and Goren didn't come up to New York. The first weekend, she was working a case and couldn't get away. His weekend was busy with Lightman and Foster. The following weekend, she needed to attend a Christmas gathering at her sister's house and again he had a series of interrogations scheduled. Neither of them was happy about the enforced separation, but she had plans to drive to Washington on Wednesday to spend Christmas with him, and nothing was going to interfere with those plans. She would spend Christmas in the arms of the man she loved.<p>

A couple of days before Christmas, Eames arrived home late. She had stopped to do some last minute shopping. Setting her packages on the couch, she hung up her coat and adjusted the thermostat. After changing into warm flannel pajamas, she returned to the living room, dimmed the lights and opened the curtains across the bay window so she could watch the snowfall. She dimmed the lights, turned the stereo on low and put in a CD of Christmas music.

To the melancholy strains of _Blue Christmas_, she removed her purchases from their bags and spread them out on the coffee table. Pushing aside the decorations for the tree, which she would get to later or the following day, she proceeded to wrap her last minute gifts.

She was almost finished when she felt a prickling at the back of her neck. She was being watched. Glancing at the bay window, which reflected back an image of the room around her, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. But it did not reflect the entire room, cutting it off before it got to the hallway and open dining area just in front of the kitchen.

Turning where she sat, she scanned the rest of the room...and there he was, standing at the end of the hall, leaning casually against the wall, looking impossibly fit and relaxed. He wore a dark blue suit and maroon tie. When she saw him, he smiled, and in his face she saw nothing but love and desire and happiness. Her heart swelled, as it often did when she looked at him, and she suddenly lurched to her feet and ran into his arms.

Her initial kiss of happy greeting quickly escalated as his hands roamed over her body and his kisses grew hungrier. She responded, pressing him back toward the bedroom as she yanked off his tie and let it flutter to the floor. His suit coat followed it, as did her pajama top and then her bra. Leaving a trail of shed clothing, they fell into the bed, desperate for each other and they held nothing back.

* * *

><p>The room was cool, and she shivered as a random draft feathered over her damp skin. He pulled a blanket up over her and kissed her head. She snuggled closer to him. Many minutes passed during which the only sounds in the room were the howl of the wind outside and the muffled strains of Christmas music from the living room.<p>

She ran her hand over his injured side, now healed and no longer painful under her fingers. He softly groaned at her light touch. Kissing his chest, she finally broke the silence. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you wanted me to live here."

"Of course I do, but that isn't what I meant. Shouldn't you be in Washington?"

"Not any more than you should be."

She lifted her head and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...the project is done. Signed, sealed and delivered just in time for Christmas. Alan even wrapped it in a big bow."

"So...you're home now? To stay?"

"Uh, not quite, but mostly. I have to go back a couple of times in January to work with Lightman and Foster. We weren't expecting to have the project done so soon. But after that, I'm done."

"What about your job here?"

"I'm back at my desk Monday morning."

She gave him a deep kiss, gently urging him back into a state of arousal. Much less frantic, they took their time and made it last. Afterward, as he drifted toward sleep, she gave him a tender kiss and whispered, "Welcome home."

_fin._


End file.
